My Novice Days
by Badass Archer Daughter
Summary: Before Legolas EVEN joined the Mirkwood military, he was just a small youth joining the Mirkwood novices. He sought to fight for his kingdom...but this was no ordinary training cohort! And besides, Mandos isn't going to leave him so easily. Because grueling training and killing filths wasn't enough. Murders, political plots, teenage growth, royal issues...what is he waiting for?
1. Departure

**Chapter 1, Departure**

Legolas sat in the courtyard, watching a particular family.

He sat alone in the edge of one of the stairs in one of the kingdom's greeting courtyards, which were packed with tons of families, kissing and crying as they embraced their sons and daughters for the last time in some time...or perhaps forever. Legolas gulped at that thought. He bit the edge of his cheek to avoid trembling in public, hugging his rucksack closer to him. Even though nobody was probably going to see him, his father wouldn't be happy if he defied royal protocol.

_But he isn't here, so how would he know? _thought Legolas bitterly.

He watched the family even more, longing shining in his blue eyes. The prince was usually granted anything he wanted, but what the family had was something he would never get, or at least for sometimes. He gave a low sigh and then leaned forward, head settling on one of his hands as he watched them more thoroughly.

It was relatively large, but Legolas soon predicted it was because it was made up of two families. One of them included a red-headed elleth with a blond-haired elf, which were possibly the first pair of parents. Two sandy-haired elves of different heights stood next to them and they ruffled an elfling's reddish mane, one who was dressed in the cadet uniform and held a similar rucksack like Legolas. He was incredibly short and wrinkled his freckled nose in annoyance, although he held an enthusiastic dimpled grin. Another family included two brown-haired elves who were lecturing a tall but skinny brown-haired elfling, with Legolas' same cadet uniform. The mother's belly was swollen, meaning she was pregnant, but this did not stop her from looking as intimidating as the father, although just as loving and preocupied.

Bored, Legolas stood up with his rucksack slung against his back and looked around, jumping the remaining steps down and breathing the crisp autumn air. Why was it suddenly so cold he wondered? He tightened his cloak around him and suddenly the armor felt too uncomfortable. He sighed, trying to shift the collar around, but found that his neck was suddenly itching. He groaned, suddenly giving up and collapsing cross-legged on the dirt, his throat made a big ball of nerves.

He thought of his father's speech yesterday during the feast dedicated to the new novices, thinking of how much was at stake right now. This was the real deal. This was no game between elflings, no fantasy, no foreign dream. But...this was what he was supposed to be. This was what he was always meant to be and he wouldn't regret it. Still, his father's words crashed inside his head, sucking the brain and the confidence out of him, making him slowly doubt his choice.

_"-I know we have had hard times. I know it, because I am no fool. I see it in the restlessness of the forest. I see it in the scarred eyes of our soldiers who return from fighting the darkness, who might just be your sons, daughters, and kin in the future, see it in your eyes. I see how nervously you look at your youths right now, at how begrudgingly you let them go, at how worriedly you shake your heads are their enthusiasm, because you know this is not going to be an easy journey. Not for them, not for you. _

_And you are all right to think this way._

_Your kin will go through the most grueling training they will ever go through. They will be exerted to the maximum, and left begging to be dragged home at the end of the day. They will shower in their own sweat and be left alone at night to massage and heal their own wounds and bruises, well-earned by hard work. They will cry themselves to sleep and struggle to wake up in the mornings, knowing the tedious process of training will be repeated for the rest of their novice training. Their weaknesses will be eradicated and ridiculed by their training masters. _

_Your kin will be racked and tormented by nightmares and homesickness. Some of these youths will be strangers to each other. They will miss their homes, miss the sweet commodities of a real bed and a hot meal, of a fresh bath and the smell of a clean forest, untouched and protected from the darkness. They will miss their families and wonder when they will be able to see them again. They will miss their loves and their friends. They will be tormented by their fear and nervousness, wondering how they will go through the training or what their outcome will be. _

_Your kin will suffer. They will see their comrades, their brothers and sisters, die. The weak will fall, the strong will persevere and bear the victims' memories in their hearts forever. They will cry at night when they remember their deaths and have to kill savagely in order to avenge them. They will kill of course. Spiders and orcs and everything that is a spawn of the darkness._

_In the end, you might think you are sacrificing your children, especially after what I have said right now. You might think that the treasures you are giving will not be useful and will be forgotten once they turn to dust. But I can assure you...that is not the case. Your children and your kin's lives will not be thought of in vain. They will be fought for, honored and cherished deeply. Their names will come under the greatest respect Mirkwood can offer._

_It is not sacrifice. It is duty. It is passion. It is love._

_And your kin will be rewarded. They will fight as brothers and sisters. They will fight like never before. The deaths and suffering they go through will only fuel them, like coals in a stove, churning a fire inside them. They will work together towards Mirkwood's former glory. Towards a better tomorrow. Towards a better future. They fight to see their loved ones and friends safe. And this is just the first step of a wide journey ahead._

_That, is why we are currently celebrating."_

Suddenly, a horn burst out and Legolas looked up. The novices were already finished with their goodbyes and were lining up to leave, their kin watching them with tearful eyes.

"Oh, I do hope I'm not late! I'm really, _really_ sorry Legolas. I nearly forgot but I wouldn't! Not ever! I was just talking with this idiot from father's council about a mistake in one of the farming records for some nearby villages. We're planning to do a check for corruption amidst the village chiefs and-it's a long story, but in the end...I am so terribly sorry."

Legolas sighed, turning around, although he couldn't help but let some disappointment drip inside his voice. "It's fine. But we're leaving in a few minutes, so we don't have much time left."

Thalos Thranduilion, eldest son of Thranduil and heir to the throne, groaned at himself and facepalmed himself lightly, offering a goofy apologetic smile at his little brother, who was trying his best not to look bothered by his older brother's tardiness. Legolas had wanted to get some helpful advice from his wise older brother...but it seemed it was not the case. After all, they had perhaps two minutes left.

"Why does this always happen to me?" he sighed. Then turned to Legolas. "Anyways...well, this is it, isn't it little brother? You're finally growing up. I swear one day you were still struggling to escape your crib, now you're escaping the stuffiness of the palace!"

"I grew up a long time ago," sighed Legolas.

Thalos sighed as well, his gray eyes turning darker. "I suppose. So...anything you want to say? After all, I'm afraid we aren't going to speak to each other in a long time. And you can't even send letters until your third month, so if there's anything, speak now."

Legolas gulped. He wished he could just drop everything and weep into his brother's arm. He wanted to get out that choking feeling in his throat, calm the nervousness in his fingers, the shaking in his legs and let his hot tears flow. He wanted to tell his brother how worried he was and how he didn't really think he could do this anymore. How he regretted this and wanted to go back. How unsure he was and how he needed Thalos' support.

But he'd already made his choice.

"Honestly, I'm fine," he lied swiftly. "Don't worry about me. If anything happens, I'll send you a letter anyways. Thank you for the letter kit by the way."

"S'all right leaflet! I know how hard writing a letter is. When I was your age, I once had to send a letter using only a leaf and...some other substances. Mother was hysterical and almost sent half of the Royal Guard to look for me, thinking I'd been kidnapped. Turns out I was just lost and alone and I'd forgotten my quill at the tent."

"Too much information, Thalos."

"Oh, right! Sorry," his elder brother grinned goofily. Then, his face turned serious. "But it seems my gift-giving session is not over yet. I still have something else to give you before you leave."

Suddenly, whipping a box from behind him, he showed it to Legolas. Opening the dark obsidian frame, Legolas' eyes started watering. His breath stopped. His hand lingered on top of the box, where in the cushioned inside lay two beautiful golden knives, sharpened to perfection and glimmering with silver light, shimmering with proud elven craftsmanship, especially at the hilts. In each blade, there was a small carven inscription in a silvery color in Sindarin, which said:

_"A true warrior cannot act without only his heart or only his mind."_

He took a ragged breath, looking at Thalos in wide eyes as his older brother cast him a small affectionate glance. Legolas ignore the barks of the elves as they had to tear the elves from their parents as they started lining up and being assigned their mounts. "T-These are Nana's knives."

"Yes," Thalos replied. "Nana gave them to you for your birthday when you were young...before you know what happened. Adar confiscated them from you though since you were too young to have them. But now, I decided to give them to you. After all, you are their rightful owner. I had to fight like a hellhound to convince Adar...but hey! Consider it as an apology for coming late."

"I-" Legolas was at loss for words. Gently, he put the knives in his empty sheaths and looked at Thalos with adoring eyes. "T-Thank you."

"No worries! Well...you should be going then," said Thalos, watching as nearly everyone was already mounted and a few horses roamed around, looking dejected as they looked for their respective owners.

"I-I think so," whispered Legolas.

Suddenly, he found himself in a tight embrace. Buried in his brother's muscular chest, he smelled his brother's scent: sweat, dry parchment, mint and sesame. A muffled whisper against his hair, his brother whispered, "Be safe, Legolas. I love you, you know that? Try not to get killed."

"I'll tell the Valar to give me some luck and try!" he said a bit sarcastically as he separated from his brother and realized everybody was mounted. If he didn't go now, he would be late. His friends, the twins in Imladris, had told him humor was always a good way to lighten up bad situations. Then, he saw his brother was dead serious and sobered up too. "I will. I really do promise. I love you too."

"All right...do you have your hairbrush?"

"Thalos!"

"Fine, fine! Go little bluejay. Just don't forget to write about how you keep your hair so great!" winked his brother, pushing him ahead towards a new world, a new path.

Legolas rushed to his horse, quickly jumping on as the gates opened. Some novices frowned at him but he ignored them. Nervousness was quickly replaced by curiosity and excitement and as much as he wanted to look back...he didn't.

**O-O-O**

**AN: Hi! Haha, this is just a little side project I wanted to make. All these chapters are not going to be very long. Just thought some of you needed to see some more Legolas as a young cute novice! :) But there will be a major conflict, so beware...**

**I might not update a lot, but I WILL so do keep in touch! You can do that by just clicking the favorite, follow or review button! Thank you so much! I totally appreciate anything you have for me, except for flames of course. Don't hesitate to PM me for suggestions either. **

**( And I got the title by an awesome Taiwanese TV show I watch, "My Freedom Years," so if you guys want, take a look! )**


	2. Stepping Forward

**Chapter 2, Stepping Forward**

The journey was going to take a day or two.

Basically, Legolas and the rest of the novices (with himself included, twenty five in total) were supposed to go to the Northeastern camp, one of the two camps available for young novices. Thalos had given him a speech about it, mainly because Thalos himself had been a novice and he'd been a swordsmaster there temporarily. Since the northern regions were a bit safer than the others, they had set two camps along the less dangerous routes and that was where they training. The camps themselves were pretty humongous and were divided into several sections, ones Legolas couldn't even remember.

After all, his brother had organized them...and his brother was a neat freak.

After some hours of riding, Legolas and the others finally decided to set camp for the day in a meadow. The sky had turned a pale with the color of ripe mangoes and a cool, chilling autumn wind curled around the skinny little novices. Their guide, a fit solemn-looking guard, was currently barking orders around them, while everybody scattered around doing jobs while chatting with each other pleasantly, cheerful unknowing smiles in their lips.

Legolas wondered why or rather, how, everybody got so well with each other in such a short amount of them. However, the answer immediately surged in his head. _You idiot! They probably all went to school together. You were tutored privately, _he thought bitterly as suddenly an ax was thrust into his open arms and he looked up to the dark eyes of their guide.

"Don't just stand there! Make yourself useful. Get some dry wood for the campfires. Chop off some of the older, darker-looking trees if you need to. Those are very good for fires," snapped the guide and without a second glance, left him to bark at someone else.

_Of course, you're not the King's son here, _thought Legolas as he shifted the weight of the ax to his right hand and walked towards the woods. He then smiled. He wasn't the King's son! He wasn't his father's son! He could finally try to prove himself. He didn't need to hide behind his perfect brother's shadow or be looked up to as the King's son. He was just...Legolas, nothing more, nothing less.

He saw that others had also gone to the woods and he thought that following them might be a good idea. Besides, novice training would take years, so it was probably best if he tried to make friends. He spotted the first person, a young-looking elleth with fiery red hair, next to tree, looking at the axe in her hand indecisively. Her jade green eyes were emotionless, but were calm and extremely pensive.

"Do you need some help over there?" Legolas asked stepping forward to him.

Immediately, she turned around and glared at him, her eyes full of fire. She let the axe fall and stick to the ground and with unexpected strength, pulled Legolas' collar and turned him around. The elleth then pushed him against the tree bark and growled as she pinned him there, nearly choking the air out of him.

"Listen," she told him. "You might think I'm an useless, 'pretty' elleth that doesn't know her place here and can't chop a flimsy little tree. But guess what you sexist bastard? I don't care about your gender or your rank. I don't need a prince riding on a white horse to save me. I can do it myself. So if you value your limbs, _STAY AWAY_!"

She pushed him away and he stumbled on the ground, looking at her mouth-opened. He was about to explain that 1. he didn't have any bad intentions, 2. he wasn't sexist, 3. he didn't really care about his rank that much, and 4...she wasn't really that pretty either. But he decided maybe he'd skip over number four. Anyways, as if to prove her point, as Legolas stood up carefully, the elleth grabbed her axe and with a war cry _chopped the bloody tree down in one bloody hack! _

Maybe her advice was to be followed.

He blinked a few times, not believing what had just happened. So much effort to make friends. He stepped away quickly, making sure he was out of her sight, and spotted another tree. He went towards it and with his axe, started to chop at it. _Well then, _he thought. _That went well. Then it's decided. There goes my 'social' life. Sigh, a talking potato would have much more chance than I do._

**O-O-O**

After that tree was hacked and he went foraging a bit, he returned with a bundle of dry twigs that could last them for several days, or perhaps even a week. He walked back towards the camp, axe in one hand, bundle in another. He was pretty proud of himself but as he was walking towards one of the storage tents, their guide stopped him, snorting.

"Took you that long to get that little? Really, one would think you were carrying an entire forest with you," he snapped.

Legolas inwardly gulped. He knew this wasn't the drill sergeant but his brother had warned him that the guide would report everything. This was just a pre-test. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I will try my best next time, sir."

"You _better_, there's no time to spare in the military. Turn around and go to one of the campfires instead. I hear they have a shortage," ordered the guide. Legolas only nodded brusquely and leaving the axe behind, he headed towards the campfires with his bundle in hand.

Unknown to him, behind his back, the guide flashed a thin enigmatic smile and grabbed his notepad from his pocket, scribbling furiously.

**O-O-O**

"-Bloody Mandos, Younger! We can't use stones, that is _so_ primitive. We'll look like dwarves! How will that look on us then, cousin? What about our reputation?"

"What reputation? We_ just _got here." The tall, reed-like elf crossed his arms and looked at him with an exasperated expression. He was obviously the logic of the duo. "Really Meren, I'm more worried on the fact that we should've lighted this fire half an hour ago. But _nooo_, you just wanted to use your bloody twigs!"

"You want to look like a dwarf then?"

"No! But I don't want to get my ass whooped either."

Legolas had headed towards the campfire just as he had been commanded to do. All other campfires seemed to be pretty well-stocked, so he'd headed to one at the back. There, he immediately recognized the two elves whose family he had been looking at before. Both of them wore impeccable uniforms but looked significantly different, where it not for the light green eyes they shared. One of them was incredibly short and had spiky-like, uneven red hair flowing free, while the other one had his light brown hair tied up in a braid. As he headed closer towards them, the bickering continued.

"Father was exaggerating, Younger! Nobody's going to whoop our asses because we couldn't light a stupid fire," said the red-head, or Meren. "We haven't even started formal training yet."

"You never know."

"Actually," said Legolas stepping forward into the conversation. "I-I'm sorry to interrupt but he's actually sort of right. If they did hit us or try to harm us for something so minor, it would be considered to be child abuse. It's written in the laws."

"YAS! Wasn't I right Younger? Wasn't I? Wasn't I? Oh yes, I was so definitely right! I told you! I told you that-!" Suddenly, the redhead realized who Legolas really was and his eyes widened as much as Younger's had as they stared at him. "I-I...Your Majesty! I'm sorry, we didn't-"

"I'm not going to be King anyways, so I would prefer you don't use any titles. We're all equals here, so just Legolas will be fine," stated Legolas, he then dumped the wood near the fire carefully, finally noticing how much his arms ached, and looked at them. "Erm...here's some more wood for the fire." He forgot to add '_nonexistent_' in front of fire.

"Oh...thank you," stated Meren, surprised. "By the way, do you know when they're going to serve supper? We need to have this fire lit by then."

"I can't say," stated Legolas. This was the smoothest conversation he'd had so far...you know, since the other person he'd tried talking to had almost killed him. "But my brother told me that they serve it around six hours after noon. He used to be a novice."

"So did mine!" said Meren, thumping his chest proudly. Then, he shook out a hand. "Both of them graduated with honors, within the top ten. By the way, my name is Meren. It's really Merenil, but Meren is all right. This idiot here is my cousin, Younger."

Younger scowled, but also took his hand out. "That's a lie, my cousin here already got most of the stupidity in the family. He didn't leave any for the rest of us."

"It's nice to meet you both," said Legolas nodding politely, shaking both hands. "I have a question though. Is your name really Younger? I do not mean any offense, I just think it's a bit unusual."

"Nay, it's not my real name," said Younger. "My real name is Thangurion, but my father and I both share that name. Therefore, in my family, to avoid any real confusion, they call my father the 'Elder' and they call me the 'Younger.' However, other people are welcome to call me Than."

Shared names? That was unusual. Most elven families could name their children after ancestors or noble warriors from days of yore...but the same name as your father or mother? What if-What if Legolas had inherited his father's name and had to be called Thranduil Junior or Thranduil the Younger? He shuddered.

Also, Legolas immediately noticed how different the cousins were. While Meren was loud and boisterous, often interrupting himself amidst speaking, Thangurion was calm and reserved, his words flowing out smoothly. And while Meren was more talkative, Thangurion knew what he was talking about and could speak about it way more fluidly. And yet they both still stuck together and they still held confidence while they spoke, something Legolas himself had yet to learn.

"Do I have that privilege?" questioned Legolas carefully.

"I don't see why not," said Than looking at Legolas thoughtfully, his green eyes unreadable as he crossed his arms. "As long as I have the privilege to call you by name and so does Meren, I suppose."

"Certainly," said Legolas.

Suddenly, Legolas was backhanded viciously in the back by someone. Turning around sharply, he realized it was the elleth he'd met previously in the forest. Her eyes remained fiery and looked at him with a glare. In her left arm, she carried five thick logs of wood and she'd used the right arm to jab Legolas. She also held the ax in that same hand.

"Quit your talking, _slackers_!" she hissed. "Shut up and actually do something, rather than being the useless idiots you are, gossiping over here like old women. This is a novice camp, not a farmer's market."

"I'll shut up when I want to shut up, Mother!" growled Meren back, immediately surging in front of her to face the elleth. He was several inches shorter but he still radiated a stubborn sense of dominance and anger. "You think you're so tough just because you're carrying some sticks?"

Legolas blinked. He didn't like this.

"Well _Archarion_," stated the elleth, snorting with a smug expression on her thin lips. She carried her five logs like they were just feathers. "I don't think you even have a right to say that. You don't even have a quarter of the strength of an old spinster. I reckon you can't even carry one of these logs if you wanted to. Oh, and thatheight issue..."

"Come over here then Mother, and we can resolve this by the two of us! When I hammer you three feet underground we'll see who's got a height issues," Meren growled, his face slowly turning as red as his messy hair. "Besides, spinster? Ha! That's funny...because that's what you'll end up being."

"I don't need an elf to help me with anything."

"You're right, because no elf would want you," stated Meren back. "Strength is always appreciated, but there's something we appreciate eve more...a _brain_, something you've never had it seems."

Before a fistfight could come out however, Than stepped up and separated them. Despite his skinny reed-like limbs and his weak-looking frame, he was able to push them to separate directions (something that had exhausted him immensely by the paleness and sweat on his face) and he glared at both of them, with the stern expression of a schoolmaster.

"Caranith, Meren, stop it. Just forget everything you said. It ought to be dinner already so let's just part and go on our ways and hope that we can just go on with our meals without killing each other. The death penal is fatal after all," stated Than soothingly.

"I half like you _Virtenion,_" the elleth, this Caranith, stated, picking up her fallen logs, putting them on her muscular left arm. "You have sense, something your cousin doesn't have. Make sure to put some into him." With one final harrumph, she twisted her heel and left, leaving them behind.

"What did you do that bloody for?" growled Meren, glaring at his cousin as soon as she was out of sight. "I was going to beat her up and show her what a bit of humility is! That arrogant elleth."

"Just brush it off Meren, we haven't even started training. Calm down and just ignore her. It's probably just in her blood," said Thangurion with an exasperated sigh. Then he turned to Legolas. "Are you all right? She tends to hit hard."

"I'm doing fine," Legolas lied swiftly as he rubbed his back, which was aching terribly. Maybe there would be a bruise there. He couldn't let anyone see his weakness though. "But really, what is it with her?"

"I honestly have no idea," Meren replied, having cooled off a bit, but still looking quite a bit frustrated. "But I think there's a more pressing matter at hand, I believe."

"And what may that be?" frowned Legolas.

"I'm_ starving_."

The dinner horn sounded.

**O-O-O**

**AN: Superbowl is today! Woo hoo! :D I'm for the Seahawks (but I'm originally for the Broncos, even if the Seahawks beat them last year), but I'm open to discuss the Super Bowl if you want to! And it's my birthday too, so consider this as my birthday gift. **

**And about the trees...I know the elves all love nature, but how are they supposed to make fire without dried twigs? You can't just find those everywhere you know. I don't think the elves would mind hacking a couple of the older, more corrupted trees that were starting to crumple up. **

**Anyways, I am so grateful for all the support you guys have shown so far! Here are the responses to my reviews, but I totally appreciate all those follows and favorites too. :)**

**Horsegirl01: **Aw, thank you! I hope this is a good update then! Although I am moving soon, so maybe internet issues and posting might get complicated.

**Masked Man 2:** As always, I love your reviews and thank you so much for your support! You're always so thoughtful on feedback. And you will see more! This is going to last a long time after all, but it's only a side project, and not as important as BbH or TSF. What do you think I should write about next by the way? As a larger fic.

**WoodElfJedi: **Haha, I wouldn't dream to! Or at least for now! :) I'm nearly finishing Brothers By Heart (around 3 chapters left! Woo hoo!), so maybe that'll give me more time. Remember, this is just a side project.


	3. Roots of a Problem

**Chapter 3, Roots of a Problem**

"Eeek, this is disgusting!"

Meren gagged as he tasted his stew with a wobbly-looking wooden spoon and immediately spat it out, his face wrinkling up in disgust. Then he dumped his bowl away unto the grass when their guide wasn't looking. He and Than had come to their fire, after receiving their share, and Legolas had hesitantly followed them. He knew it would be best if he didn't sit alone for now, even if it was with complete strangers. They didn't seem to snap at him when he sat in a log he'd dragged across from them, so he figured out it would be all right if he stayed with them for just the night. They were friendly anyways.

Thangurion rolled his eyes. He, unlike Meren, sipped his stew vigorously. "We aren't going to get any seconds, Meren, so I think you should appreciate what you have...or had."

"_No seconds_?" said Meren with a horrified expression. His spiky red hair bounced in front of his shocked, horrified green eyes. "What is their problem?! Do they want us to starve? Because they are going to do a mighty good job of doing that to me, it seems!"

"Meren usually eats four bowls of food...or more," explained Than to Legolas in front of him as the tall youth carefully put his empty bowl next to the log he sat on. "So you can see why he is so distressed."

Legolas nodded politely, finally understanding Meren's disgust after tasting his food. He'd managed a couple of forced gulps but watching the strange green, yellow and white substances swirl in his bowl was already making him sick. He would probably never finish half the bowl he had left. Still, he didn't want to look like a spoiled palace child or a soft-handed prince, so he said nothing about it and didn't open his mouth to agree or complain, when he really just wanted to dump this bowl off somewhere in the woods to never be eaten again.

"Distressed? No, I'm infuriated! It should be a legal offense, I think. Child abuse!" Then, Meren turned sharply and looked at Legolas. "Could you mention it to your father some time soon? I think he ought to know about the well-being of his people."

His father. Legolas gulped, terrible memories swirling inside of him, ignoring the humorous tone the red-head had used. He shook them off though and then looked at Meren. "I-I'll see what I can do."

Suddenly, Legolas felt something sticky and moist trail from his head to his entire body. Standing up and hissing angrily, his eyes flared as he realized what had just happened, bits of meats and chopped vegetables tangled up in his hair, inside his clothes, and a slimy concoction running down his face, chin and uniform.

Someone had dumped stew on him.

Growling, he turned back and found a buff-looking elf laughing back. Two cronies stood at both of his sides, grinning with sick expressions but with wobbly legs, knowing that he was a prince. The larger elf, or the leader, didn't seem to know this though. Tossing his empty stew bowl aside carelessly, he smirked at the young prince.

"Oops! My bad!" he stated with mock shock, obviously intentional. He then turned maliciously to look at him. "What are you going to do about it then? Will you...see what you can do and run off and tell Daddy-boo, crying?"

They laughed and turning on their heels, left. Legolas burned. Not only was he angry for having stew dumped on him, but if you insulted his father, the King...you passed the line. He was about to run back and give the idiot a nice taste of his medicine with his fist when suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, the slender one of tall, ever peaceful Thangurion.

"No, don't," said Than. "It will only be worse."

Legolas grumbled and sighed, shooting one last glare at the elf's direction.

**O-O-O**

"Don't judge Turen, he has had a large grudge against your family."

Legolas scowled as he shook off his dirty shirt and dumped it next to the riverside, where Than and Meren had accompanied him and were helping him scrub the remains off. Also, they'd forced Legolas into the river (which was icy cold at this time of the night) and the blond was chattering and hissing like a madman. When it came to water, he was very much like a cat...he hated it to its deepest cores.

His voice was bitterly sarcastic. "Oh dear, I couldn't tell."

Than, the one who'd spoken earlier, frowned. "If it makes you feel better though, he's bullied all of us. He's done some nasty things to me and I even recall one time he buried half of Meren in the middle of the woods, which had him crying and having accidents in his bed for months. He's completely nasty. But he particularly hates your family."

"Wonderful! Always good to know your family is hated," said Legolas rolling his eyes with even more sarcasm, washing his dirtied face that stunk of squirrel remains...and tasted the same.

"I wasn't even in school yet!" snapped Meren indignantly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Yes, yes," rolled his eyes Thangurion. "Anyways, it's a long story, but from I've heard from Meren's nana, who always seems to know these kinds of things, it's just a long series of misunderstandings. You see...Turen's older sister, Myra apparently used to date your brother, but your brother...I guess he didn't find much interest in her. And-"

"And you can tell why. Ugh, even an olyphaunt has better curves and brains," snorted Meren, shaking his head as he threw Legolas' cloak at him. Legolas scowled, but the red-haired novice paid him no heed.

"Meren!" admonished Than. "Anyways, to make matters even worse, your brother and Turen's older one, Amtheron, went to the same novice camp together...and your brother outranked him in the final testing, coming out as-"

"The first place candidate," sighed Legolas. "I would know."

Thalos, Legolas' brother, was Legolas' main idol. As the eldest and crown prince, he had always excelled at everything...but that was also where Legolas' unrightful jealousy came from. Thalos' old tutors had nothing but praises for him, the minstrels and fellow warriors nothing but songs of his bravery and strength and all of his father's Council members loved him, siding with him almost anytime. Thalos should have been given an award for taking a step on Middle-Earth and gracing it with his presence!

Him? Legolas thought of himself as just an extra, an extra prince.

"Yes, and Turen's brother came as third," said Than. "Then...came the final blow. Turen's mother was some grand captain patrol and in one of Turen's namedays, which made it all even worse, it was said that your father sent her South somewhere to fight some incoming spiders...and her corpse was found several months later: severed, mutilated and with only half of the torso left, rotten and crawling with bugs."

Legolas froze.

Meren shuddered, glaring at Thangurion. "Valar Younger, that's disgusting! You could've just said, 'Something terrible happened. She died while fighting spiders.' BAM! Do you really need to be so graphic? This is why we never get new friends." He turned to Legolas, who looked pale and sick all of a sudden. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm fine," lied Legolas swiftly, swallowing another wave of bile about to come out of his throat, his head throbbing and his vision becoming more blurry.

"A-All right," said Meren hesitantly. "If you'll excuse me." Then, he went next to Thangurion and started a heated discussion with him, full of hissing and secret whispering.

And in that moment, as he continued scrubbing behind his ears and at his stew-stenching limbs, Legolas remembered. He remembered the day his own naneth had died...or well, rather fragments of it.

Her anguished begs as she pushed him into a tree, hiding him from upcoming trouble.

Her sad smile at Legolas as the orcs find her, not him.

Her cries of pain as she was whipped and tortured.

Her begging and hot tears as they found Legolas, cut her and dumped salty water on her.

Her guttural screams as the orcs burned her already unrecognizable body.

Her silent expression as they dragged her away, just when his father's battalion came.

"Legolas? We're back. We just need to dry the clothes and you'll be...all right," said Meren, trying not to look too disgusted or look below Legolas' face. Other than a cloak and shorts, Legolas was completely nude. And while most females (except Caranith that was) would squeal with excitement from this accomplishment, Meren didn't look too comfortable knowing that.

"Ah...I see," said Legolas nodding. "Really, I must thank you two. You've been too kind. You two are even breaking curfew for me, and that is often punishable by getting expelled out of the novice training."

"Well," sighed Meren. "It's worth the risk. No one should get over Turen alone."

"That's right. He eventually stops when the victims don't become as easy to bully...although I think you'll be an exception, with the grudge and all. I'll continue my story," said Than and with Legolas' sharp nod, continued. "So anyways, Turen's mother dies and his father goes a bit insane. So he starts ingesting some illegal weeds and gets himself locked up, leaving the three remaining members of the family orphaned to a degree. Turen's brother became a general somewhere, his sister became a drill sergeant, and Turen...Turen is here, with us."

"Which is wonderful news."

"Incredibly," said Than, rolling his eyes with as much sarcasm as Legolas. The three of them then burst into grins until suddenly...they all froze, the sarcasm and humour fading from their eyes as their spines chilled and their eyes widened.

They heard twigs cracking.

"_Bloody bullocks_, what in Mandos was that?" hissed Meren looking frantic.

"I've no idea, but I don't like it," grumbled Thangurion nervously. Then, he went into action, wisdom and tactics flowing through his eyes. "Does everyone have a weapon?"

Legolas was suddenly thankful for his brother's small blabberings in the days before his novice training departure. His brother had warned him that nothing goes as expected during this training and that he would often times need it...especially at the most unexpected of times. ("You might even meet a bear or two! *insert hearty brotherly maniacal laugh inside* I needed to kill a couple back in my time, so don't surprise if you do too!") Legolas took out his brother's present from one of the bags he'd brought with him, the two beautiful knives that had once been made for him by his mother.

"I have my knives," he said firmly, trying not to sound afraid.

Thangurion nodded, his light green eyes looking serious. He went to the bark of a tree, kicked it open, and revealed a spear he'd hidden there. He grabbed it and held it comfortably in his hand, stepping next to Legolas, who had one knife in each hand. It was not one of those big ones used in the army, but rather a small one, like one of those kinds which the local, cheap fishermen would buy to protect themselves. Still, it was a weapon and Legolas knew not everybody was as fortunate as he was when it came to riches.

"I have my spear."

They both turned and looked at Meren expectantly, who was sitting in a rock next to the river looking as scared as they were, perhaps more. His spiky red hair fell into his green eyes once more as he looked at them with a childish-like expression, two dimples shining even in the slightly starry night.

"I have a sock!" grinned Meren sheepishly, waving Legolas' sock around.

They glared at him.

He shrugged.

Anyways, they awaited whatever was coming for them. Legolas trying but failing miserably, to obtain a proper hand-to-hand combat stance with his knives, Thangurion trying to stop his arm from trembling, while his spear was pointed upwards in a throwing position, and Meren...was armed with his sock, ready to launch it like a deadly projectile when needed (which would be really effective, Legolas reckoned).

Then came the thing.

Hissing from the foliage of the trees, a humongous spider jumped out. It was far bigger than anything Legolas had seen, both in real life and from descriptions in books. It hissed and lashed out its large sting, ready to attack them at any time. Its beady dark eyes and furry legs made shivers and goosebumps run through Legolas' skin. It was as black as death. The blond gulped, panicking as sweat ran through the side of his forehead. Sure, there were three of them...but the spider was big. Bigger than anything before. And besides, the three of them had absolutely no training in fighting these filths other than basic survival skills.

And one of them was armed with a _sock._

So then, the three of them did the most logical thing in Middle-Earth.

They screamed.

The spider came forward as their shrill voices hit its sensitive senses, and tried to sting Than, but Meren pushed him away and they both rolled across the grass, landing chest-first on top of some rocks. Legolas winced for them, but was cut off when the spider lashed out at him. In bare instinct, he flashed out of the way and threw a knife. It bounced off the spider harmlessly though, hitting one of its harder areas. Gaping in disbelief, Legolas tried climbing a tree for better view but was pushed unto the floor, the spider's massive body nearly crushing him and his air supply. However, with a growl, Meren had jumped on top of the spider, trying to...stuff the sock into the spider. Still, his efforts were admired and Legolas quickly got this chance to retrieve his fallen knife and with his weapons reclaimed, jumped on top of the spider as well, stabbing his knives into its hard flesh to hold on. Than also jumped on top, sticking the spear at a part beneath the neck and that is how the three of them stayed, screaming and holding on for dear life.

_"Why in Mandos does this always happen to us Yoooouunnggeer?" _screamed Meren, often sounding like a little elleth as his eyes turned to his cousin.

"I've no idea! But I think I'm going to be sick!" said Than, looking indeed quite pale, much to Meren and Legolas' worry. However, Legolas himself was feeling quite queasy, so he didn't judge him. Suddenly, the three of them were thrown back by a huge shove by the spider and the three of them landed face-first into a tree, sliding off it with a couple of groans and moans. Soon, they regained balanced and huddled with each other, watching as their imminent death came towards them.

Or not.

Out of nowhere, a dark figure plunged out. In the pale moonlight, you could only see some of the rough features. A pale-skinned sharp face with an even sharper jaw and set of cheekbones, the elf flew into the sky from the foliage of trees and made an impressive backflip, leaving the three of them stupefied. Backwards in the air, he put himself into an arrow-style formation and aimed his black sword downwards, and as gravity pulled him down, he plunged the sword through the spider, jumping back and easily decapitating it. The spider hissed, moaned, and without a second glance or breath, fell dead unto the ground.

Gracefully, the dark figure, or elf, cleaned his sword with the edge of his sleeve, put it back into his sheath and kicked the decapitated spider corpse away with disgust, snorting and muttering something slurred. But then, he took a sharp turn to glare straight at the three novices, who were trembling by both fear and admiration for this extraordinarily agile stranger who could 1. be a genuinely good person or 2. an illegal elfling trafficant or 3. some sort of drunk/insane/not normal warrior.

Still, they waited for their verdict...and got it.

"You little weasels were screaming at _that_?" the dark voice snorted disgustedly with a hiss. "Well, that's what you get for breaking curfew you miserable scums."

**O-O-O**

They weren't kicked out, but they had to scrub the stables in camp for the next seven months.

The dark elf, much to their embarrassment, had turned out to be their new swordsmaster, a young ellon called Daedhel. He had dragged them back to the temporary camp, which had already noticed their disappearance and were already dividing into search teams. Daedhel argued with their guide (whose name they discovered was Irithror) for a couple of minutes and then just grunted in annoyance, ignoring Irithror and turning his back on him. Then, with a dark glare and a last hiss at the novices to-be, he summoned a black horse out of nowhere with a sharp whistle of his mouth!

He was creepy indeed.

Then, after he'd mysteriously left, they were left at the mercy of their guide. The three of them had been in deep trouble, even as they tried to explain what had happened, and the three of them were met secretly with Turen's smug grin after the whole lecture and punishment giving. Legolas and the other two glared back, but secretly the blond was pretty relieved about the punishment. They could've been met with worse. He would never have been able to come home, expelled from being a novicce.

The three of them glared back at Turen...but they really had no choice left, so they just decided to ignore him altogether and try to go on with their training without his malign influence.

Now, however, their misery almost peeled off as the three of them rode together and finally saw some colorful specks in the distance. Than just frowned, his eyes squinting to get a better view, but Meren and Legolas already knew what it was. Morning was already rising, a dawn-like palette settling in the sky and with peels of laughter, Meren and Legolas dragged Than along with them, riding far ahead of their guide, who was barking angrily at them and yelling colorful threats. But they didn't really care, as they reached a steep inclination and grinned at the sight below, at the vast valley concealed in the foliage of thick trees where tiny fires were lit and delightful specks moved around busily.

The novice camp.

**O-O-O**

**AN: Haha! I'm sure you guys are grinning that our so-heroic Legolas was scared on his first night as a novice by a spider and screamed like a little girl! ;) Oh, and Legolas has now found himself with a bully. Thoughts on the characters, old and new?**

**Reviews! **

**Masked Man 2: **Thank you! As always, your review was a delight to read. You should be a real book critic in the future. Your compliments and observations are all so well-placed! Anyways, Tauriel, according to Peter Jackson, is only 600 in the Hobbit, while Legolas is like more than 2,000 for him, so I don't think she'd be around his novice training. And Caranith_ is _supposed to be annoying and chauvinistic...but she really is a strong character, and I guess you'll get a slight idea why she's always so tough. And yay, you remembered Meren and Than! :) You're actually right. I had them in a slight flashback during "Brothers By Heart." Hehe...you know, the one where Legolas gets shot with the poisoned arrow...and both of them..._you know_...

**WoodElfJedi: **Thanks! Always appreciate your support!

**Maupe: **Thanks a lot! The plot will go on as well, so you'll expect plenty of interesting ideas. Along with the occasional sprinkle of plot twists. And you will see more characters, especially once you actually get to the camp, which is here. And thanks for the birthday wishes too! :D

**Horsegirl01:** Thanks! I totally appreciate it! :) And I sort of do too. It's interesting to compare how Legolas speaks when he was young, to when he's much older.

**Bettsam0731: **Yay, thank you! New stories are always so EXCITING! This is only a side project though, because my other fanfictions are much bigger than this one, which is why the chapters are much shorter. And Legolas will DEFINITELY get the hurt and comfort you want! Haha...you've no idea what I have planned! Plus, you're totally right about the archery thing! Just don't tell anyone and take a guess of how it'll happen! :) You are one smart reader!

**Schattenjagd: **I'm so sorry, I will in the future! All the updates also go to one of my e-mails (I only really use the school one), and I only have a bunch of trash there, for a lack of a better word, so I don't get them either. But I will make sure to tell you whenever I make new stories! I'm actually open to all new suggestions for new story ideas, so you're free to tell me anything you want! And I feel so guilty for not reviewing too! Hopefully my recent review for "War of Elves" fills that up!

And haha, no, I'm sure I'm my age! I'm just really good at speech-making. Like, seriously good at it. That's the only reason why I was ever elected to be class representative in elementary school...everyone was so impressed with my speech! Haha! And yes, I love Thalos too...he's my favorite OC! I wish I had an older brother like him. But in all, thanks so much for your review! It really means a lot. Plus, it's fun to see Legolas not being heroic and brave for once. He's young here, so he doesn't have experience, skills or confidence...and that's something really different from what we're used to seeing.

**Guest/Mae: **Dang, that happens to me too SO MANY TIMES! That's terrible, I hope you find your password again. And thank you so much! I appreciate your support and reviews so much!


	4. From Bad to Worse

**Chapter 4, From Bad to Worse**

From there, things went from bad to worse for Legolas.

They'd only had a few moments to admire the awe-inspiring view when suddenly, they'd had their heads whacked from behind by a certain someone. Who? Well, just a certain bright red-haired elleth who'd suddenly decided she wanted to become a teacher's pet. Caranith even made too-skinny Thangurion fall off from his own horse, moaning a few curses before struggling back up. Then, looking even more smug than Turen had before, with her hands crossed against her chest, the guide had come towards them, threatening and screaming at them even more. He even patted Caranith on the back as he elongated their punishment from 7 months to a whole entire year.

Woo hoo, to cleaning stables and favoritism!

To make matters worse, the trek to actually get to the camp was three hours alone, and they had to go through some nasty swamplands and natural obstacles (the first time Legolas had ever said Lady Yavanna's name in spite) and it added two hours to their difficult way. Caranith, of course, trying to be 'better' than the rest of them, had finished the trek half an hour earlier and was waiting for them with a calm smile as the rest of the novices collapsed on the ground from exhaustion and the guide praised her for her prowess and determination.

And that's not all.

The tired novices were soon dragged by their guide around camp for a tour. Fortunately, Legolas had brought a small notepad with him and he made a quick sketch of the place around him. He wasn't very good with words, but he found he was actually not a bad artist. As they finished walking around, they soon entered a large flat field, where many other older novices stopped and watched in amusement as they were lined up. Orders were barked to them and incoherently, Legolas went along with them, finally standing up in one spot. He didn't really focus on what was happening though, he was too intent on his drawing, on the detail. He straightened the rough edges of the buildings and made new lines, paths, as well as slender cuves and quickly but effetively drawn angles.

The map was looking pretty good in his notepad. It turned out this was only one section of the Eastern Training Center. The other half was four miles away and was for actual warriors to-be, which were either already full-fledged and just practicing or about to graduate. It also offered more challenging and advanced courses. Legolas drew an arrow with a note that said that.

The section he was in was only for novices only. In the northern and southern sides of the camp or the valley, were the training areas, practice rings and watch towers, which were heavily armed and always patroled. The bathrooms were also located outside (outdoor bathrooms, great) and they offered courses on many weapons. Spear-throwing, ax-wielding, hand-to-hand combat, swordfighting, archery and much more. On the eastern and western sides of the valley were the resources and the armoury, full of weapons and foods for the novices, which were supplied monthly by farmers and other locals. These were also patrolled heavily. Inside of this were some other buildings, such as the Main Informational Building, where the authoritative figures were, the Smithy; the Dining Hall, the Study Hall (yes, they also had to continue their education, which to Legolas was more like hours wasted on boredom), a small lake, the Changing Rooms, the Showers and finally...the cohorts themselves. They were like simple small cabins, but they were comfortable, and could easily house 6-7 elves inside-

Suddenly, Legolas' sketchpad was snatched away from him and Legolas, in frustration, was about to growl at whoever had grabbed his personal belongings when he froze and found himself eye-to-eye with their drill sergeant, who was glaring furiously at him behind her blazing light blue azure eyes.

However, her voice was surprisingly calm. She looked at his sketch of the camp. "Hmm...quite the artist, are you?"

Legolas looked around frantically, seeking for help, but found only 90 something or so pairs of eyes staring back at him with pity. He sighed inwardly but fortunately caught both Than and Meren's gazes, who were two rows away and were wincing at Legolas, as if they were feeling his pain and embarrassment. Meren mouthed something back to him, which seemed to be a four word title and Legolas took his best guess.

"Yes, S-_Ma'am_," said Legolas, quick to repair his error, hoping he'd interpreted Meren right.

He hadn't.

Meren silently facepalmed himself and Legolas in panic watched as suddenly, the drill sergeant slammed the sketchpad unto the floor, and smashing the paper against the mud, making the blond elf wince inwardly. She looked up, her dull and bland face turning fiery red with anger. She stepped forward, literally an inch away from his face, and did what drill sergeants do the best: screaming and breaking down whoever is in front of them.

"Ma'am is it now?" she hissed. "MA'AM? THIS AIN'T COURT, THRANDUILION! I'M NOT A MADAM, I'M A BLOODY DRILL SERGEANT! If an elleth here can't even be treated with her title, WHAT IN BLOODY MANDOS will you ever think of your FELLOW novices? Your superiors? Do you know that I could WHIP YOUR ASS right now without hesitating?"

"I-I most certainly think you could," Legolas said stuttering, nodding his head repeatedly. Things were going downhill quickly. "I-I meant no disrespect, I-"

"YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN THE REST OF US?" she hissed at him and continued, almost spitting in front of his face. Legolas' legs suddenly flimsy and he tried to stop the shaking in his limbs by bitting his lower lip. "YOU THINK I'M GOING TO TREAT YOU BETTER AND LET YOU DISRESPECT ME WITH YOUR 'ART' JUST BECAUSE OF WHOSE SON YOU ARE?"

Legolas took a deep breath, summoning all his courage and consciousness left to respond. The nervousness drowned out and instead, seriousness took over. This was a serious topic after all. His heritage...Legolas knew just the answer. Gulping inwardly, perhaps for the last time, he faced the drill sergeant directly and looked at her in the eye, wishing he could've said farewell much longer.

"I don't expect you to think of me more or less than what I would think of you, which is, Drill Sergeant,_ nothing_, since I have no idea of who you are or what you do," said Legolas calmly. "All I'm asking though, is that certain people don't judge me for _whose_ son I am."

"Did you just TALK BACK tome, Thranduilion?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just asking for some respect," replied Legolas shrugging.

Silence.

It seemed as if not only Legolas held his breath, but all the novices, who looked at him with incredibility and disbelief. They were wide-eyed, and some even looked at Legolas with pity, almost as if they could foretell Legolas' future disastrous death by the hands of this angry-looking drill sergeant. However, just like Legolas, who was visibly trembling, they all waited for the final verdict.

The blow from the sergeant never came, and instead, Legolas was faced with a half icy, half calm voice.

"So be it. But I hope you keep your promises, Thranduilion, because you'll learn that I expect you to drag them down to your grave," the drill sergeant replied in an icy voice, her glare blazing. Then, she twisted her heels and headed unexpectedly towards the novice three rows in front of him and two to the right, who squealed as soon as she stopped in front of him and began barking and ripping him apart verbally.

Legolas gave a large sigh, almost fainting right in the spot as soon as he was forgotten.

That had been a _close_ one.

**O-O-O**

Later, after some more rounds of screaming and even some cries, teary eyes and sniffles from the novices, they were excused. For the day, they didn't have to follow any formal schedules, which would be handed later on that day, so Legolas had rest of the day off to explore. But before, he had something to do.

"Meren, Thangurion," Legolas said, waving to the two other novices, who were aimlessly heading towards the Dining Hall, possibly on Meren's demand.

"Oh, hello Legolas!" smiled Thangurion. "That was really smooth what you did back there."

"Indeed! I thought you were going to be pulverized right there. We would've made your tombstone fabulous though. We could've used some ribbons and glitter from Than's, and I would've personally carved your epitaph," said Meren enthusiastically, perhaps too much. "It would've said, 'Died being honorable: which means he was sassy.'"

"I see," said Legolas dryly, not very amused. "Anyways, back there...what were you mouthing me? It sounded like it started with an 'M' and it had four words. So what was it? I thought it was 'Ma'am' but apparently I was wrong..."

Than and Meren looked at each other and finally, Meren responded.

"You thought I'd said '_Ma'am_?' You really need to practice on your lip-reading," stated the spiky red-haired elf. "I said 'Myra.' Do you know who she is? Than mentioned her earlier, when he was telling Turen's story to you. Myra...Myra is Turen's older sister."

Legolas groaned.

**O-O-O**

Legolas knelt down, scrubbing the floor with vigor.

Sweat beads formed at the edge of his hairline but he continued washing. Despite it being barely the first day of the novices' arrival, the guide had been particularly strict on making Legolas, Meren and Thangurion follow their duties, meaning that Stable Cleaning 101 started that same day. And while Legolas had bitterly been about to argue back, Thangurion had tried to lighten up the situation, saying that "-the sooner we start, the sooner we'll end."

He was also the genius who decided to give them less hours. The guide had lectured them about it. The three of them had a daily stable cleaning hour quota of 3 hours, but Thangurion had the idea of cutting them slack. After much persuasion, he had been able to make the guide give in and divide the 3 hours into 1 for each of them. Meaning that instead of the three of them cleaning the stables together for 3 hours, each of them would spend one hour stable cleaning consecutive shifts. This meant, that they still had to clean stables…just 2 hours less each day.

Legolas' thoughts of admiration for Than, however, were interrupted when a certain annoying voice suddenly cut into his brain.

"Hey Princey-boo, how's it feel cleaning stables?"

Legolas frowned as he looked up to the sneering face of Turen. He had apparently just taken a bath, because his fair dark face looked like a wet mop and some strands settled up in front of his pale eyes and even paler skin, which were covered with little water drops. He leaned against the wooden rim of the back door to the stables, a big triumphant smirk on his face. His clothes, the casual clothes they were allowed to wear during free time, were new and smelled of lavender, crisp and clean.

Legolas looked to the front door, where he was supposed to be watched over by a guard…and who also was supposed to avoid these kinds of issues happening. However, it seemed that he was too busy, speaking to two of his friends elatedly and distractively holding a mug full of a frothy liquid Legolas didn't need to see to guess what it was.

_Great, _he thought.

And that's exactly what he said to Turen. He made sure his voice was as sarcastic and as mock excited as possible. "Great. How's it feel being Mirkwood's greatest douche?"

Turen only laughed, sauntering over to Legolas and standing right over him. Legolas was now standing up, although he had to admit Turen held some advantage. After all, he hadn't just spent fifty minutes scrubbing horse manure, loading hay and falling face-first into mud pits because some dumb horses didn't want to get their manes combed by Legolas. And he was a buff elf, at least four inches taller than him. So yes…Legolas guessed this was not going to end well.

"Pretty fantastic," grinned Turen. And out of a sudden, he grabbed Legolas from the back of the head and pushed him head first into a nearby mud pit. Legolas gagged, fighting back and screaming every obscene word (he'd pretty much grown up hearing things in the archery field, so it turned out he wasn't that innocent) he knew, gurgling and spewing out mud, hoping and praying to the Valar that some idiotic guard would stop being idiotic and come see what the commotion was about. He struggled a bit more, feeling the disgusting puddle of muddy water gurgle around in his mouth, nearly choking him. After some more ten minutes of having his head like that, Turen's massive form got off from him and stood up, letting Legolas process and cough out the mud in his system, trying to regain his breathing while he kneeled in all fours. He'd also gained a massive bruise in his right cheekbone and his mouth felt really weird.

"How'd you like that mud bath, punk?" asked Turen teasingly, crossing his arms and looking awfully proud of himself. "I, myself, rather enjoyed it, I-"

It didn't take him that long though.

With a growl, Legolas stood up and threw a handful of spiky hay on Turen's eyes. The big bully hissed in response, clasping his eyes and Legolas took this opportunity. Because he was much shorter, he had to jump and he landed a nice square hit in the jaw, hitting him with all the strength his punch could summon. He let out a howl and they both fell backwards, Legolas falling on top of Turen. With his enemy temporarily blinded, the blond elf punched him in the left eye and right in the nose. A bone cracked, and blood now flowed freely out. However, Turen didn't take much time to recover either. He pushed Legolas off, flipping him backwards into a pile of hay and jumped on top of him, elbowing him in the ribs. Legolas groaned and bent forward, letting Turen kick him a bit more.

The blond elf crawled out of the way, and with his dirtied weak fingers went to grab the rim of the bucket full of water he'd been using to clean the stable floors. Suddenly, gritting his teeth, he dumped all the water on top of Turen, who immediately scowled at Legolas like a cat, wet and shivering from head to toe. Legolas then used the empty metal bucket and whacked it against Turen's head. They both fell down, Legolas on top of his attacker, and started banging him repeatedly in his face with the bucket, while Turen fought back with ferocious punches.

However, Legolas soon heard the hurried sounds of shouting and the firm steps of several elves. He soon felt firm arms ripping him and Turen apart from each other and dragging his severely tired and also injured body out of the stables. _Of course_, when the massive bully is shoving him face-first and drowning him in mud, nobody ever came or saw anything. But _of course_, when Legolas is whacking and punching the massive bully with a bucket, everyone rushes over and sees everything.

Of course.

**O-O-O**

"-And I see you've had quite the troublemaking personality, Thranduilion. It is most unexpected. And even more because this is merely your first day. Do you not understand the consequences, even after your stable cleaning punishment?"

Legolas gaped wide-eyed at his guide, looking incredulous.

"What? This isn't my fault!" he exclaimed. "This is all a large, very great misunderstanding. You need to understand that I have done _nothing_ wrong. I was just doing my stable cleaning quota like I was supposed to do…and Turen just barges in and starts beating the lights out of me and making me eat mud! What was I supposed to do, sir?"

"You should not have engaged in any violent physical contact."

"Oh I'm _sorry_, maybe I should've just shrieked and cried like a damsel in distress instead, waiting for a gallant, sober guard to come and save me," replied Legolas sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"This is not funny, Thranduilion," said his guide, glaring at him.

"It's not," Legolas agreed. "And what's more, I stink."

And he did. He hadn't been given any time to bathe anyways, he had been rushed here to his guide's office right away. Turen's injuries were slightly more severe than Legolas, so his punishment had been decided quickly and he'd gone to the infirmary to be treated. He was to take over Legolas' stable cleaning duties for a month…which had possibly been the only good thing coming out from this ordeal. But now, it was Legolas' turn.

The guide's glare only intensified. "Considering your bloodline and previous reports from your masters, this is incredibly disappointing. Most disapproving behavior, I'd say. I was told you had innumerable potential…now I'm not so sure."

Legolas' face fell.

"Anyways, I suppose curfew is coming soon though and you'll be wanting to head to where the other novices are to get assigned your bunk cabin. So I will need to quicken this up," said the guide, suddenly leaning forward from his armchair and staring deep into Legolas' light blue orbs. "Your punishment."

"Right," said Legolas nervously.

"Of course, I understand you didn't cause the problem, so it will only last a week. It will be a minor one, because you_ did_ become involved with it," stated the guide, taking out some papers and writing some notes down. And normally, Legolas could read easily, but the Tengwar symbols only seemed like scribbles to him at that moment. His mind was cobbled up with his nervousness and his anxiety for the result.

He wanted to scream that this wasn't fair! That he had no right to receive a punishment for this. That it was only an act of self-defense and that if he told his father and brother to come, his father would have probably made the guide deaf with a large sermon. Or…he would've locked him up in the dungeons. His brother would possibly defeat this guide both physically and verbally, possibly giving 200 reasons why Legolas was innocent and why he should come out without any punishment whatsoever.

But of course, that sounded spoiled and exaggerated, so he kept quiet. And if he did speak, his punishment would only get worse.

"I have it!" said the guide triumphantly after much thought. He looked at Legolas. "We have had a small accident in the kitchen staff. One of the young servants destined to serve the food has received a minor burn in one of his arms, and he is healing right now in the Healing Ward of the infirmary."

Legolas didn't like where this was going. Suddenly, everything dawned at him. His face paled, and his eyes widened as well with realization. "_No_."

"Yes," smiled the guide. "You'll serve everyone's meals for a week."

"What? No, please…I'd rather clean those wretched stables for a week than do that," exclaimed Legolas. It wasn't that the task itself was difficult. No, this was about his dignity and the non-princely image he was showing. He looked at the guide desperately. "Is there really no other punishment for me? Is there really nothing else I can do?"

"Well," sighed the guide. "If only you were more like your brother…"

Legolas sighed. Not again.

He had been used to hearing these types of talks for a long time. He'd grown up with them all his life anyways. The 'If only you were more like your brother' talks, ones that were popular among the palace staff. Whenever he made a mistake, people never hesitated to remind him. Apparently, so did this guide. He talked on and on without stopping, seemingly speaking hours long in Legolas' ears. Legolas wasn't hearing of course, but he knew it went on the lines of _'Ah, your brother is so perfect! He is such an ideal prince. He excelled – and still does of course, a wonderful little gent – at everything. He got flawless marks in school with barely any effort. He got only praises and songs from everyone. He had the best physique in all of his novice class and ranked first. He became one of the youngest to join the most prestigious and dangerous patrol. He became one of the youngest commanders. He has the good looks and an even more precious personality. He is perfection put into a body itself. Everyone loves him. You should try to be a bit more like your brother.'_

Then, to conclude his little speech of admiration for the eldest prince of Mirkwood, the guide looked at Legolas with a small look that said, _'In all, your brother must be some sort of Maiar in disguise. You? You must be adopted.'_

"Anyways, no, Thranduilion. I am not backing up on your punishment. It is what it is. And it's only a week besides, it will not last for eternity. Do not exaggerate on its severity," said the guide, Irithror, rolling his eyes at the end. "Go now. And run, the bunk cabin assignment will be happening soon. If you do not reach there soon enough, perhaps you will not even receive a room to sleep in tonight!"

Great. His day was getting better and better now.

Legolas looked at the guide, nodded and then rushed off, slamming open doors and breaking into a run. This day had already been a nightmare…but if he had to spend the night sleeping outdoors and freezing to death, it would be much worse.

**O-O-O**

**AN: Haha, Legolas has had a great first day, hasn't he? Anyways, thanks for all the positive reviews! And by the way, happy late Valentine's Day! How did everyone spend it? :)**

**By the way, I'm pretty sure this isn't how the military works or how drill sergeants speak…so do excuse me if I've made any exaggerations, mistakes or misconceptions. **

**Masked Man 2: **I actually find Daedhel attractive too. I like dark-looking guys after all. I know he didn't appear at all here, but he'll appear more next chapter, so don't worry! Next chapter is a lot about novice training life. And aww, I remember the stew scene too! I might have gotten some inspiration from that. And also, now that you're saying, Than and Meren are very alike to Merry and Pippin…but no, I didn't do that on purpose. It's cute though! And of course, thank you for your insightful review! I love how thoughtful you always are. Anyways, last chapter was indeed a mix of humor and emotion…most of these chapters will, anyways. I hope you like this one too!

**WoodElfJedi: **Aw, thank you so much! And apparently a lot of people like him too. I personally think he's one of my favorite OC's…and I invent life stories on the way, so who knows what I'll think of? And I'm glad you liked the sock part. ;)

**Schattenjagd: **HOW. DID. YOU. KNOW? Haha…some of the characters and happenings here were SO inspired by Harry Potter! I had just watched a bunch of videos and I got really inspired. So Meren is like Ron, Legolas is like a blond Harry, Than isn't really anyone but I'd say he might be like Neville, Caranith (haha, she is pretty annoying I guess, but she gets better in time) is like Hermione and Daedhel is like Snape…you know, except less greasy, younger and more handsome. But I love Snape as a charater, so I love Daedhel too! And haha…if you thought Legolas had rotten luck before, think about _now_. And I know, I like writing about his novice days too. It's interesting. Here, he can't be too heroic or too able. He's just a novice…and that is so unlike what I've written. It is quite different. Thanks for all the compliments too!

**Horsegirl01: **Thanks! I loved writing the sock bit too. :) And I will always try to always update as much as possible! I've just been pretty busy these days.

**Bettsam0731:** Thank you, and he will! Haha…they just need to wait, don't they? ;) And I do see the similarities as well. However, for now, they just need to try and get over their differences.

**Maupe: **Haha, a great combination, aren't they? And…thanks for the compliments! I will always keep updating! Best regards for you too. :)


	5. Madmen for Bunk Mates

**Chapter 5, Madmen for Bunk Mates**

"You're late."

Legolas looked up, wanting to scoff at Daedhel. He didn't know where all this sass and fury was coming from, but he expected his friends, the Twins from Imladris, along with this so-called thing called "hormones" his brother had told to him about from a book, were doing this effect. Nevertheless, he felt anger, and his mood changed like the wind, that is, frequently. _Oh no, I totally knew I was early. I had no idea I was late. What do you want from me now, huh? Tea and scones?_

"I was in the guide's office," Legolas stated neutrally instead.

Daedhel snorted once more. Up close, Legolas saw he was still as menacing. With dark black hair tied neatly and an elegant posture befit for a noble, he looked more high-ranking than even Legolas himself! If he'd been wearing better clothes, he could've easily passed off as the prince. Nevertheless, he wasn't, and currently wore a casual outfit, with two suspenders against his sharp shoulders. He clicked his tongue impatiently as he gripped his quill with grace, glaring at him with dark eyes.

"I know _that_," he stated exasperately. Then he looked around at all the gaping elves, who either looked at him in awe, or were just pure terrified. "Anyways, as I said before Thranduilion, you're late. We've already assigned our cabins...but it seems you missed it all out."

"I had no idea I was going to be given a special place with the pigs," snorted Legolas. He knew there were some pigs kept for emergency food supply, in case they needed more ham or whatnot. Also, he suddenly felt confident with all his attention...even if it was negative. He suddenly felt powerful, powerful beyond anything he'd ever felt. Was this how warriors felt everyday? Because he didn't think it was so bad.

"Is that sass you're giving me?" hissed Daedhel, looking at him menacingly.

Now Legolas didn't seem so confident. "Erm...no, sir."

"It_ better_ not be, or else not only will you sleep with the pigs, you will bathe with them and you'll possibly end up like them...cooked alive for breakfast," spat out Daedhel. Then he grumbled, adjusting and scribbling furiously into his notepad. Did all instructors have one? Legolas wondered what they wrote. "Anyways, I have arranged your cabin."

He suddenly pointed at a group to his left, straight at a tall dark-haired and olive-skinned elf who almost seemed to stand out because of his enormous height. "Morinlai. You are responsible. If you are just like your father, I know that you will be able to keep this troublemaker out of making a fool of himself."

"Yes sir," the elf stated. Normally Legolas could read through people...but this one was just as enthusiastic as a stone. Fantastic. Legolas knew they would get along perfectly.

"What are you waiting for, then?" snapped Daedhel, whacking Legolas in the back of his head with his notepad, making him stumble slightly forward. "Go, you troublemaking punk! I haven't got all night."

Legolas muttered, rubbing the back of his head, that now throbbed heavily because of Daedhel's whack. He wondered if Daedhel had any of that "hormone" thing too. Grumbling under his breath even more, he went to grab his pack from a wooden box next to Daedhel and headed towards the dark-haired elf's group.

"Finally! We're done with this rubbish," sighed Daedhel, putting his notepad in his pocket. Then he glared at them all. "I want all the results and cabin information in the main office by curfew. Curfew is by nine hours after midday. Go to sleep, don't be annoying, and make sure to wake up tomorrow before the rooster's call for early examinations. Go!"

Once he turned around and left towards the far end of the camp, to his private cabin isolated near the woods, no one spent any time. The hustle started and everyone moved in throngs round, traveling about. The dark-haired elf of Legolas' cabin, the one whom was called Morinlai, turned to them. "We head out. Follow me."

They followed him with no word. Legolas took this opportunity to examine his new cabin members. He looked longingly around, wishing he'd been bunked with Meren and Than, familiar faces...but he supposed not everyone could get what they wanted. He hadn't seen the cousins anyways.

Standing next to Morinlai was a diminute elf with honey blond hair. He was even shorter than Meren! He looked nice enough though, and had a cheerful tone to his voice. He talked animatedly with Morinlai and much to his surprise, the dark-haired elf occasionally flashed the elf tiny ghost smiles back, along with the occasional affectionate mutter. It was obvious that they were close, despite the incredible physical differences between them.

Next was a messy, light brown-haired elf with a mischievous grin. His eyes were humongous and a bright green hue. He looked evidently Silvan, with that nature-loving look in him and a wild, rogue aura about him. A rebellious streak. He also looked pretty athletic, probably from tons of tree-climbing and adrenaline-filled sports. He was coated with a laying of dirt, although he wore it proudly, showing his heritage boldly. Legolas tried to fight down the jealousy. He had always wanted to look more Silvan...like his mother.

Bouncing behind him and speaking rapidly to the Silvan elf was another elf, who always had an enthusiastic response. He was the one who seemed by far the nicest and had also looked at Legolas as if he were Ilúvatar when he had walked over to their group. Normal elves would be flattered, but Legolas was slightly bothered. Legolas...didn't think himself worthy to be admired. What qualities did he even have, anyways? He didn't deserve to be an idol, especially to this gentle-looking, generous rosy-cheeked elf.

Finally, trailing far behind the group, even a bit behind from Legolas, was a smart-looking elf. And it wasn't only because he was intelligent-looking. No, the elf had _class_. He carried himself with elegance and Legolas deduced his family must be one of the ones working and living inside the palace. It wasn't like Daedhel's natural one, but rather, more forced and taught, like it had been instilled for years and years. He also looked sort of Sindar, with darker, silvery features. His hair was black with honey brown streaks and his eyes...his eyes were unlike anything Legolas had ever saw. They were a clear, beautiful crystal gray, like diamonds crumbled to pieces or the stars spread inside him.

Legolas doubted they would all get along.

**O-O-O**

They stopped at their cabin and entered.

Legolas liked it. Obviously it wasn't luxurious, but it was more comfortable than he could have wished for. There was a small space with a wide rug and a table, possibly for the novices to relax. Then, behind this small area, were three collumns of simple wooden bunk beds, each with one green sheet and a pillow.

"I GET TOP BUNK!" screamed the Silvan elf, whooping at the top of his lungs and running towards the middle collumn. In no time, he was up in the top bed of the bunk and screaming even loudly, hooting and thumping his chest with what seemed to be a war cry.

Morinlai rolled his eyes at the elf, muttering a small 'immature' under his breath. He sighed, his arms crossed against his broad chest. "Rín, you would have received the top bunk anyways. There's no need to get so excited about it."

"Can I get top bunk as well, Mori?" asked the diminute blond-haired elf sweetly, grinning widely at the dark-haired elf.

Morinlai sighed once more, but didn't seem bothered at all. "Of course, Kaitsu."

"WOO HOO! TOP BUNK!" screamed out the blond-haired elf. He went to the middle collumn, clasped the arms of an equally excited Rín, and then jumped from the middle collumn bed to the right collumn bed.

From then, everything went as Legolas expected. Morinlai moved slowly towards the lower bed in the right collumn bunk bed with the elf Kaitsu, unpacking neatly, and

"All right. Focus everybody. We need to vote cabin leader. Any suggestions?" asked Morinlai.

"Oh whatever, you do it, Mori," said the Silvan-looking elf, lying flat on his back on top of his bed.

"Yes Mori! You'd do a great job," nodded Kaitsu enthusiastically.

"Put my vote anywhere you want. I don't really care," snorted the classy elf with glassy eyes.

Morinlai wrote everything down, and while he snorted every time a compliment was thrown at him, Legolas could see he was secretly pleased. He probably didn't have many opportunities to prove himself back home. Legolas felt a pang of sympathy inside of him, realizing that neither did he.

"Hey, Legolas _hir-nín_! Don't you want to do it?" asked Grethil suddenly, looking up with admiration at Legolas.

Legolas blushed by the proposal. _Heck, bloody Mordor no! I don't want any more of this rubbish. More trouble for me, more punishment. _That was what Legolas really wanted to say, but for the sake of his newfound reputation, he gave the elf a kind and reassuring smile, befit of his class. "Oh Valar, no! I'm afraid I won't be very good. Morinlai is probably more capable than I am at doing this kind of thing anyways. And please, no titles. It's just Legolas."

"Wow _hir-nín_, you're _so_ nice! I wish I could be like you! " grinned Grethil enthusiastically, clapping his hands together to make a point. He was oblivious to Legolas' discomfort towards his title. However, Legolas couldn't help but crack a small weak genuine smile back, despite the frustrating 'my lord.' The positivity radiated out of this elf naturally...and it was pretty contagious.

Unfortunately, not everyone reacted that way.

"You're right. The incapability stinks on you. Your weakness is pathetic," stated Morinlai, snorting and then turning his emotionless facade on, scribbling heavily on the parchment they had been given. His handwriting was neat, proportionate, bold and dark: downright strict. Way better than Legolas' messy scribbles.

_Okay mate, okay! Excuse _me_, _Legolas thought in disbelief, with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide, extremely incredulous. He hadn't expected a royal ball in his honor as a welcome, but he hadn't exactly thought he'd be greeted so undecently. Where were the manners in this place? Did respect suddenly erase itself from books?

"His disbelief is justified."

Legolas frowned, turning to his right. Leaning in the corner with his arms crossed moodily against his chest was the classy dark-haired elf from before. His eyes were slim and shone with silvery wariness and hate. He was obviously analyzing the cabin. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said his disbelief was justified," sighed the elf warily, turning to Legolas. "We all expected a grand warrior. Instead, we got_ you_. We thought maybe a prince would have a more dignified image, but you're the opposite of that. After all, anyone who must have dislocated that idiot Turen's nose must have been a wonder. But upon seeing you, everyone has become doubtful. However, I am not surprised."

"And why is that?" snapped Legolas hotly.

"Your voice itself was as Morinlai said: pathetic."

"Oí everyone!" smiled the cheerful honey blond-haired elf, trying to lighten up the movie and stop Legolas from killing the other elf. "Why can't we just sit around in a circle, tell our life stories and talk things out peacefully? Then we can become friends!"

Legolas, along with the dark-haired he'd been quarreling with, snorted.

"That's a great idea, Kaitsu!" gushed another elf, jumping up and down enthusiastically. He looked extremely hyperactive, so Legolas moved a couple steps behind. How did he ever get bunked with these madmen? Oh, yes, because of _Daedhel_. He glared at his memory. Legolas would get his revenge one day. Then the hyperactive elf turned to smile at Legolas with humongous green eyes flashing. "Come _hír-nin_! It'll be fun!"

"Thank you, but I think I might actually take a bath-"

Legolas then screamed as the elf yanked him forward and pushed him onto the floor, making him crash face-first into the wooden floor. Legolas moaned, pulling himself to sit cross-legged and watched as the other elf calmly sat across from Legolas, sending the prince a smirk. The prince glared back. The Kaitsu elf, the one close to Morinlai, was trying to persuade their newly-made cabin leader, to come down with them, and after much persuasive nagging, the leader did. He, however, continued writing intently and sat to Legolas' left, along with Kaitsu. Grethil also bounced over, sitting next to Legolas in his right flank. Rín didn't even sit down, looking like a bat as he hung upside down dangerously from the ledge of his bunk bed.

And then, they waited for something to happen.

Legolas looked around at everyone's awkward silence. Silence made him nervous, so he decided he should say something. He coughed lightly to gain some attention so that he could speak. "All right, before whatever we're doing, can someone please tell me what happened in my absence? Because I have a very bad feeling in my gut that I have missed something pretty grand."

Morinlai sighed and looked up. "Well, do you want to know about Turen?"

"I don't really care about him but I guess so," shrugged Legolas. "I never did see him after what happened in the stables."

"Víruvil," stated Morinlai plainly, pointing to the classy dark-haired elf who Legolas had spoken with earlier, the one with those analyzing crystal gray eyes. The elf, upon hearing his name, turned to look at them and after a flicker of recognition, turned to the prince.

"As I stated earlier, you dislocated his nose. You did not see him because he has spent the entire afternoon in the healing wing, heavily injured. He also has a concussion, a few broken ribs and several bruises in his face, apparently," stated Viruvil, looking at Legolas. "It is implied that he will return well tomorrow. His injuries will possibly not so grave with a night's rest and some _athellas_ salve."

_I dislocated his nose? Yes! _Legolas was secretly glad yet guilty for Turen's sudden stay at the healing wing. He tried everything to restrain himself from cheering right then. Perhaps he would do so with Meren and Thangurion. "Thank you. What about the cabin? Why do we need to elect a leader?"

"Víruvil," stated Morinlai once again. He was busy writing. One of the many responsibilities Legolas was glad he didn't have as cabin leader.

Víruvil looked annoyed, but surprisingly didn't argue. He turned to Legolas again. "Each cabin is assigned six people, which are your team. Each team collects points throughout this year of novice training and in the end, the novice masters count up the points. The one with the biggest sum wins the prize. However, at the end of the novice training, there is also a small championship, a display of our achieved skills. This competition serves as an extra way to gain more points and gain the lead to win against other teams."

"What is the prize?"

"Honor, mainly. And a whole day's worth of rations of food from the masters' private reserves."

"No wonder why they serve such terrible unhygienic food here," muttered Rín, sighing and rolling his eyes, still upside down from the bed's railing. "They think it'll encourage us to participate in their silly motivational event."

"It is, however, a smart tactic," Legolas pointed out.

"Sure I'll give them that," sighed Rín once more. "That is, if we survive their food poisoning to be in it."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Anyways everyone, I think we should all present ourselves to each other," said Kaitsu, clapping enthusiastically. "I know most of us already know each other from school, but I think Legolas would really benefit from this. Besides, there are things we don't really know about each other. For example, Mori likes blond ellyths."

Even as everyone gave a small laugh while Morinlai turned around scowling at Kaitsu, barking indignant insults, Legolas inwardly winced. He knew Kaitsu had good motives, but the way he said it made Legolas seemed more like a stranger than before.

"Are you two related?" asked Legolas suddenly, gesturing Morinlai and Kaitsu. "You two seem very close."

"We aren't, but we will be soon," said Kaitsu, flashing Legolas a smile. Then, childish-looking Kaitsu looked so much older than he hinted and his eyes were far away, looking at something beautiful by the way he smiled unconsciously. His dark brown eyes were dreamy and then he snapped back, his smile turning into a full-blown grin. "Mori's family and mine have always been close friends, and so have we. We have known each other since childhood. Our fathers are both commanders in the army. And...I'm bethrothed to Mori's sister, so we'll soon be _brothers-in-law_!" The last part was particularly enthusiastic.

Bethrothed? Legolas didn't even know what color of shirt he was wearing tomorrow! He gaped at Kaitsu, a weak smile on his face. "Wow...a bethrothal! Congratulations. But aren't you too young? I mean-"

"It's a bethrothal. They're not getting married tomorrow. They're simply engaged for the future, not eloping to some foreign land to start living together secretly..._right_?" said Mori, suddenly glaring menacingly at Kaitsu and shedding all signs of affection.

Kaitsu had also suddenly shed his enthusiasm. He looked nervous. "R-Right."

"I'll start!" piped up Grethil smiling. He turned to everyone cheerfully. "Anyways, as you may all know, I'm Grethil. I actually wanted to become a healer, but I ended up here instead. Not because I thought it was fun, but because I thought that if there were more healers in patrols, less people could get killed. More lives would be saved, including local lives. If there had been more healers in the patrols surrounding my village, my family wouldn't have succumbed to their wounds during the orc slaughtering. I think I would have a much greater effect out there than in the palace, exploring and spreading my skills all across Mirkwood! Helping people has always been a natural to me. After all, if each of my family members hadn't sacrificed their lives for me to help me survive the attack, I would never have been here with you all!"

The room was silent.

Legolas swallowed a gulp. His throat was dry. Here he was, weak and pathetic because of his mother's death, when this cheerful elf had lost _everyone_ and still had a big smile on his face. The prince was speechless. "Grethil..." he whispered.

"Well, if we're all going to do this, let's get this over with," snapped Rín, trying to improve the mood. He turned to look at Legolas. "I'm Rín and I really didn't want to be here either. My entire family is made up of farmers. I have a huge family, so the entire village are basically all of my relatives in some crazy way. I came here...I don't know! I think I just came for thefun."

"Do you think this is a joke? There is no fun in having to witness what we'll witness in our novice training." Legolas tried to control himself, but he couldn't help replying quickly, his voice twisted in a tight frown and his fists clenching unwillingly. Rín looked at him strangely when he said those words. "We're all supposed to be here for honor. For duty. For-"

"Please prince, why do you think everyone is here?" Legolas turned around to watch Viruvill stand up. "Nobody had a choice. We came here either because of our families, because we wanted military privileges, or because we were afraid. Only a fool would want to do this job willingly."

"Then I must be the biggest fool of them all because _I_ did!" growled Legolas back. "I came here because I wanted to do my duty and protect the land-"

"Don't try to trick us, prince," Viruvil stepped forward, his empty glassy eyes boring into Legolas' light blue ones. "You may trick everyone else here in this room but not _me_. You are only here because you want to avenge your dead mother, the late Queen. You are only here because you want to please your father and stop having to look up at your older brother, the Crown Prince, with jealousy. Behind those gray eyes of yours, you are just as selfish as any of us."

Legolas stood there frozen, boiling with anger. How dare he accuse him of such a thing! His fists now red, Legolas was ready to punch him, barely able to contain his anger. But his main reason for being angry...was that all Viruvil had said, had been true.

It seemed the entire cabin was frozen as well. Morinlai, stacking his couple of papers, was looking at the scene with solemn interest, Grethil was nervously shaking in place and watching the scene worriedly unfold, and Kaitsu simply looked sad, as if he had expected better from them all.

Suddenly, a realization hit him.

"But..." Legolas frowned at Viruvil, as he quietly spoke up after some while of thinking. His concern, much to his surprise, was genuine. "My eyes aren't gray. They're blue. You can easily see that. I'm the only one who didn't inherit my mother's eyes. Are you all right? Are your eyes all right? I don't know why you hate me so, but maybe you should rest a while."

The room felt into silence, everyone looking at each other as if they knew some sort of deep secret. However, suddenly, much to everyone's surprise, Viruvil burst out laughing. It was a cold laugh, devoid of the warmth and merriness a normal one would have, and it was almost bitter, longing. After he finished, he suddenly grabbed Legolas' chin and pulled him further until their faces were centimeters away from each other.

"No matter what rest I have, prince, my eyes will never be all right," he hissed at him, while Legolas was still too shocked to move, even against Viruvil's surprisingly frail form. "It is a condition I was born with, because I am _blind_, prince."

The blond-haired prince's jaw hung open, as he staggered back in shock, gaping at Víruvil. "_What_?" Then he paused, looking at everyone whose eyes begged for him to be gentle with Viruvil. "I mean, I do not mean to be insulting, you merely did not seem to hold such a thing. You seemed to function so normally, I would never have realized it by myself. I-"

Viruvil laughed, cackling in front of Legolas' face bitterly. "'Such a thing?' If you are going to say disability, say it. I'm a cripple and I know it. Besides, you would be surprised by the things cripples have to do daily to make themselves be seen equally, prince."

The room was perhaps the third time in that night, in silence. Legolas opened his mouth, to apologize for his bluntness and to insist that Viruvil was certainly not a cripple, when suddenly, Morinlai stood up, his timing impeccable. It was obvious he was a born leader, and knew when to do things right. Legolas envied that.

"Legolas, I am Morinlai. Those are Kaitsuran, Rín, Viruvil and Grethil. We are your cabin mates, you are our cabin mate, there is nothing else we should know about each other, other than the fact that we should work together and follow the rules to beat the other teams," stated Morinlai coldly. Then he turned to look at Kaitsu, who suddenly looked guilty for proposing the idea in the first place. "Personal things are kept to ourselves."

"Fine with me!" snorted Rín, flipping backwards and landing on his bed. He soon disappeared under the sheets. "It's very tiring to hear old Noldo ladies bickering amongst themselves. I'm going to sleep, if you all don't mind." Nobody laughed at the well-meant joke.

"Everyone, do that," snapped Morinlai. "Go to sleep. Curfew is coming soon and they'll come to check. I will go to deliver these papers to the main office and when I come back, I expect everyone to either be asleep or preparing to do so. Nothing else. Is that understood?"

This time, no one said a word against him.

**O-O-O**

Legolas took a bath and reflected.

He felt significantly nicer since he didn't smell, but also because as he rinsed his hair, his mind seemed clearer. He sighed, rolling his eyes and musing on his situation. Out of so many other teams, Legolas had to be assigned to this one. He secretly thought Daedhel must have done it on purpose to punish him, but tried to think of it otherwise. After all, his brother had always said that challenges were the exercise of the heart and mind.

But really, if he had been told this would happen a long time ago during his youth, would Legolas himself have believed it? That he would be with a blind elf, an overly enthusiastic one, a downright Silvan and two future but drastically different brothers-in-law stuck in a cabin for the rest of his first novice year?

He would have laughed.

**O-O-O**

By the time Morinlai came back, Legolas and the others were already fully-prepared and in their had all recovered from the previous ordeal. Rín was sleeping peacefully in a wild position, his sheet half-in, half-out, the bed and his pillow lopsided. He snored loudly, but Legolas didn't want to be rude to say it out loud. Below him, Viruvil had also fallen asleep. Legolas was surprised on how silent the classy elf looked while sleeping, almost as if he were dead, and suddenly...those captivatingly beautiful crystal eyes weren't so innocent to watch. Kaitsu was also asleep, his eyes wide open and dreamily looking at the ceiling, with his sheet obediently tucked up to his chin and his head curled up in the pillow. Legolas shook his head. Sometimes, Kaitsu seemed twice his age, but sometimes he just looked childish. Morinlai looked around, making sure everything was in order, sighed and then fell like a rock as soon as he hit the bed.

He must have been exhausted. Legolas envied him. He was having trouble sleeping, as was Grethil, apparently. He moved a lot, and his movement shook the entire bunk bed. Legolas was thankful Grethil was scared of heights. These bunk beds didn't seem very stable and guiltily, Legolas was thankful he wouldn't be crushed in his sleep. Suddenly, after some more minutes of blissful silence, there was a soft familiar whisper from below.

"Legolas _hir-nín_?"

"Yes, Grethil? And I told you it was just Legolas, please. No titles."

"Will do _hir_-I mean, Legolas. Anyways..."

"Yes?"

"G-Goodnight, Legolas."

Legolas, perhaps for the first time the entire day, flashed a genuine smile, ones he rarely gave out since his mother's incident. He crawled a bit and then poked his head down, smiling at Grethil, who held his sheets tightly in his hands. "Goodnight, Grethil." Then he crawled back into his bed and lay there, his smile widening as Grethil's obvious excitement oozed out of him beneath him.

"Do you really mean it? That's amazing! Goodnight to you again, Legolas! GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!" The last part was particularly annoying, since it was basically screamed out loud to top volume. Legolas had no idea what Grethil's lungs were made of, but they made Legolas' ears wince. He hissed out loud, as if he were a cat in water. And it was particularly annoying, since fatigue had already started to play with Legolas' mind. The reactions, similar ones to Legolas', were immediate.

"_Bloody Mandos_!"

"Goodnight to you too Grethil!"

"Argh! I didn't just need to be blind, didn't I? It seems I will also be _deaf_."

"Everyone - just _shut up_."

Legolas laughed quietly to himself and looked up to the skies as the nagging continued. Maybe he was wrong about this group. Maybe...maybe they weren't so bad at all.

**O-O-O**

**AN: A bit of a long chapter, I know, but I hope you guys liked it! It was also more angsty than I thought. I never actually did plan to make Viruvil blind...**

**AND I AM SO SORRY for not putting Daedhel much. I thought I would put some of the examinations here, but it seems that I couldn't. I'm so sorry, I'm absolutely sure that he'll be a major character next chapter. Promise it on Eru and all of the Valar. **

**By the way, a question for the next chapter: out of Legolas' five other bunk mates, who is/are by far your favorite/s?**

**Also, a little off-topic note. This entire chapter is dedicated to Leonard Nimoy, who sadly passed away. It is so surreal. During the original Star Trek show, he had the role of Spock and acted beautifully. This loss has been taken deeply into my heart and I know that in many hearts across the globe, they are in the same state. #LLAP**

**Reviews!**


	6. Hero

**Chapter 6, Hero**

One eye opened and blinked.

Legolas yawned, fully opening both of his eyes and stood up, stretching. Carefully folding his sheets and adjusting his pillow, he looked out of the sole small window in the cabin, where tiny streaks of sunlight entered through a small flimsy curtain. He looked around the cabin. It seemed like it wasn't wake up time yet, but Morinlai and Kaitsu were already gone, perhaps in the baths. Must have been their strict military regime. And while the rest were sound asleep, Legolas still made sure to try and disturb them as little as possible as he opened the curtains a bit and peeked out.

Strangely, it was a beautiful day.

The sun was barely rising, with golden rays crashing through the peach-colored sky. The early morning smell was sweet, like ripe fruit and warm bread. Moist dew made the grass shine and there was an eerie sort of silence in the novice camp, devoid of life except for the swaying of the foliage of the trees because of the wind. Legolas grinned. The thought of perhaps being with Turen was discomforting, but at least he would be discomforted surrounded by beautiful nature.

Dressing up in the novice uniform that was assigned to him, which was a smooth light green color, Legolas climbed down the bunk bed and making sure he didn't disturb any of his sleeping bunk mates, crept out of the door, trying not to make the door creak too much.

The outside was even better from...well, the outside. Every sense, every color, and every movement seemed more vivid, colorful, alive. For the first time in the entire stay, Legolas didn't have an urge to go home. If this was freedom, it smelled good. He felt more Silvan than ever before, almost merging into the trees and land surrounding him. He loved the palace and had grown accustomed to its ways, but Legolas would always love being out in the open much more, because it was where he belonged.

Suddenly, Legolas heard a couple of grunts.

Frowning, he turned to the direction of the grunts. He knew it might get him to trouble, but his curiosity got the better way out of him. The blond elf walked a bit more until he found himself in the hand-to-hand combat center, where the hand-to-hand combat examinations were to be seen that day. In a mat to his far right, two elves stripped down to the chest were lunging and fighting against each other, and Legolas found himself captivated by the two familiar elves' movements.

Morinlai was of taller stature, but he found himself with the same build as tiny Kaitsuran. They were both significantly muscular for someone their age, probably because of prior practice. That was how Legolas had gotten his fair build as well, from his constant archery drills. Legolas, as he quietly sat down on a fence and watched them fight each other, quickly started admiring their attack tactics.

Of course, their banter was amiable, and no serious harm was being done. Nevertheless, sweat and concentration were etched into their eyes, as if they had entirely forgotten the world. Suddenly, Kaitsu didn't seem so childish, and Morinlai looked just plain menacing. Morinlai was more defensive, and his movements were smooth, swift like a current's. He made less attacks and jabs than Kaitsu, but his were just as meaningful, since they had more power and force put into them. He was obviously storing his energy for the end, or for the climax for the battle, proving how much wiser he was resource-wise. Kaitsu, in the other hand, was fast and seemingly energetic. He was intelligent, and his jabs were always well-suited, hitting vital areas at a startling speed. He was clearly deadly, and some signs of fatigue and annoyance were shown on Morinlai's face as his future brother-in-law blocked his moves and moved in to tire him constantly. Or perhaps it was the time they had spent wrestling.

Legolas soon sensed the fight was to come to an end. At some point, Legolas started holding his breath as he watched Kaitsuran come and deliver the final blow. Legolas watched in wonder, as the miniscule elf performed a sturdy double-leg takedown and during this time, performing a clean leg sweep as Morinlai clutched his collar. However, just inches from the ground, Morinlai got full-grip of his future brother-in-law's collar and forced him down, slamming him unto the floor sideways and making him fall the same time as he did.

The prince was awestruck. These two would definitely wow the masters during the examinations. There was no doubt about that.

"Now, I don't think it is very princely to spy on others. Why don't you join us, pathetic elf prince?"

Legolas scowled, just as he had been about to leave to the baths and do some more reflecting. He had been discovered, and so easily! His cheeks turned bright red as Morinlai looked at him with a bored expression and Kaitsuran only flashed him an amused smile, happily waving him to come over him and greeting him enthusiastically.

"I'm not pathetic!" snapped Legolas in annoyance with his arms crossed against his chest, although he still walked over to their direction. "And I was not spying, I was merely observing."

"Observing without permission is simply the same thing as spying. They're both intrusions after all," stated Morinlai, rolling his eyes as he wiped some sweat off his forehead with his shirt. He clicked his mouth impatiently. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I would ask the same of you."

Morinlai smirked, perhaps the closest thing he'd given Legolas to a smile. He and Kaitsu exchanged an empathetic side-eyed smile and then the tall dark-haired elf turned to Legolas. "That was a quick response. It seems your tongue is on fire, so perhaps your blood is as well. If that is the case, wouldn't you mind fighting me?"

_No way! _Legolas screamed inwardly. _You've seen how this elf fights, he could crush you like a bug! Don't do it. Don't be stupid. Don't be an idiot. This is what Thalos warns you against doing everyday. _However, in the outside, he looked cool and reserved. "If after we finish I still yet have time to take a bath, I do not see why not. I would be honored to."

"The honor would be all mine," grinned Morinlai darkly as he nodded to him and gestured the fighting mat. Legolas knew behind that smile, the dark-haired elf had a reason...and he would find it out. Soon enough. Although he should be worrying more about the fight. He had to last up long enough to find out what Morinlai was planning.

Seeing he and Morinlai needed to be in the same base, Legolas stripped off his shirt as well. He blushed deeply as he felt both of their eyes break him down critically, analyzing. They might have been worse than his father! His blush deepened. Legolas was by far not as toned as these two elves were, but archery had made his physique toned and muscular, even before training.

"You exercise as well?" piped up Kaitsuran cheerfully, grinning at him.

Legolas blushed deeper than ever. "I only do archery."

"Do not underestimate it. Archery is an incredibly helpful skill. Not only are the legs required to make a proper, firm stance but your torso needs to be in incredible shape, in order to be flexible enough to shoot from various directions," stated Morinlai, flexing his muscles before the fight. "And the arms as well. Archery is not as easy as it seems, and requires a lot of limb power from the arms in order to pull back the bowstring, especially when skill and speed are required."

"You seem knowledgeable on the subject. Do you practice archery as well?"

"Yes, but I admit it is not my forte," sighed Morinlai with a roll of his eyes. "I use it as a way to warm up before my actual exercises, or as a way to root out my anger. It seems I have a bad temper."

"I'm surprised. You're always so calm and reserved," stated Legolas in confusion, trying to picture this wall of stone expressing something other than boredom. It was hilarious, and he tried not to smirk out loud.

"_Reserved_? You should see him in his tantrums!" laughed Kaitsuran suddenly. "Banging things, running all over the house, destroying pottery, shouting and causing a wreck, his face reddening like a tomato, hollering like a little Noldo lady in the market-!"

"I believe that's enough!" snapped Morinlai in annoyance, although Legolas saw some affection in his voice once more. He turned to Legolas, calming down. "Anyways, are you ready?"

"As long as you are."

"Good. Because if you meet an orc, you won't get a warning." And Morinlai lunged for him, abandoning all sorts of care he had shown towards Kaitsuran. It was obvious this wasn't his full capacity, but he probably wanted to bring down Legolas quickly, in order to show off his skill and possibly give him a message. He wanted to use the proper amount to destroy Legolas.

But he would soon realize, Legolas wasn't so easy to catch.

Legolas moved out of the way as Morinlai lunged forward. However, this didn't catch the tall elf off guard. His instincts were almost instantaneous, and as soon as Legolas had turned around, sure that he was out of harm's way, he found himself face-to-face with the back of Morinlai's boot. With a small involuntarily gasp, he ducked and was just able to avoid the blow as it passed by where he had been in a flash. But the attacks did not stop. Getting back up, Legolas found himself kneed in the stomach and this made him fall backwards. The blow itself didn't hurt, but the fall did. He groaned but got back up once more, sliding his leg across Morinlai's unsuspecting ones. This did make (something which Legolas noticed had made Kaitsuran's eyebrows raise in curiosity) him trip, but he landed well, for his hands were able to give him enough strength to make a flip, enabling himself to stand up on firm ground once more. Then, he'd turned around and flashed a sly smile at Legolas, as if he were welcoming him to make more bold moves like that one.

Although that didn't happen.

From then, it seemed that Morinlai was teasing him, playing. Legolas didn't like it, knowing the entire fight was being manipulated and controlled by the dark-haired elf for his amusement, but he found himself not being able to change things. They performed a skillful dance, one full of blocks, dodges, lunges, slashes, punches, kicks, slides, twists, turns; movements that almost made them seem like they were flying, a showcase of grace and agility.

It seemed, however, that Morinlai had gotten tired of playing. Legolas felt their fight slowly draw to its end and he lamented on how short it had been. Was he really not capable of being a worthy opponent, a challenge? However, thinking proved to be a mistake, since it distracted him from the battle briefly. This gave Morinlai the space he needed and he threw a punch directed at his chest, but Legolas was quickly able to move it away and threw a punch back at him, aimed at Morinlai's right shoulder. However, this proved to be another mistake. The dark-haired elf was able to quickly spin, turning away from the blow and with Legolas' arm stretched out mid-air, Morinlai was able to grab it and pulled him, using the arm to slam him hard against the floor.

Legolas groaned, landing on the floor hard. Morinlai sure had strength in him! His size was no joke. However, Legolas' pain and anguish was interrupted when another presence moved closer to them with a big smile.

"Whoa, I didn't know you fought so nicely!" grinned Kaitsuran cheerfully, looking at them both with twinkling eyes, jumping enthusiastically at Legolas' direction. "Your form was very clean."

"You _are_ a good fighter, prince," nodded Morinlai with some approval in his voice after he took his hands off Legolas. He wiped some of the sweat on his forehead and then offered one hand to help the elf prince stand up. "And you have a lot of skill already, but there is something you have yet to learn."

"And what might that be?" asked Legolas, gratefully accepting the helping hand and clasping it firmly so to lift himself up and help his muscles rest a bit.

"Don't trust anyone too much," snapped Morinlai and gave Legolas a sickly grin.

He let go off Legolas' hand and let him drop to the floor with a big _thump! _The elf prince groaned, slowly dragging his dirty and sweaty body up in order to look better and be able to reply back. However, much to his dismay, Morinlai and Kaitsuran were already gone, walking calmly a long distance away and chattering about the proper length of fighting blades. Legolas grumbled in annoyance and stood up firmly, crossing his arms against his chest and observing them for a while more until he headed the opposite direction towards the showers. But he did conclude with something.

These two were ones to watch out for.

**O-O-O**

"Well well, nobody died last night? Congratulations. You've proved to me you're not as idiotic as I thought you were. Of course, that doesn't improve my thoughts for you that much, but I suppose progress is progress."

The ninety or so novices stood quietly in neat rows in front of Daedhel, who seemed particularly sassy today, sporting a smirk on his usually emotionless face. However, his clothing was still as noble, elegant and organized as it had always been, armour clicked in neatly and slick dark hair combed carefully. Legolas gritted his teeth. It was Daedhel's dry and arrogant voice once more. How did the handsome swordmaster ever manage to be so bored yet so teasing? It was annoying, like a double-edged sword. You never knew what or how the swordmaster was thinking.

The prince was still plotting his revenge.

"Anyways," said Daedhel, finishing some scribbles and then slapping his notepad shut, scaring all of the novices, he shoved his notepad in his pocket and looked at them sternly. "Examinations are today."

Silence.

"Everyone," he stated as he began pacing, "is expected to be of their best behavior, and that doesn't mean you'll just grin like idiots and do as you're told. No, you're expected to go beyond that, and try your very best to excel than is not a competition, but it might as well be. This is the first glimpse us, masters, will get from you and you would do well to give us a good impression. You will need it after all, if you will want to survive."

Silence.

"We will hand you your schedules after this talk. You must not reveal your schedule to anyone, not even to those you trust. They might turn out to be traitors." Legolas gulped, his hands tightening into fists inside his pockets. The rule weighed on him the most, as the King's son. "Keep it to yourself. However, today you need not be worried by that meddlesome schedule. Only for today, you will travel with the same group for examinations. Is that understood?"

Silence.

"_Is that understood_, scums?"

This time, no one dared say nothing. They spoke at once, nodding and speaking and looking up at Daedhel desperately, as if asking him to please not vaporize them all. He snorted, taking out his notepad once more and scribbling, although he seemed pleased by the respect and fear he imposed. He then shut it once more, and then looked at them all.

"You will have eight examinations, with small ten minute breaks between every two examinations. After all of these are done, you will have the rest of the day off. That is because tomorrow your real training starts and that is where you will truly learn the meaning of suffering," stated Daedhel, making them all shudder. He continued rambling.

"The examinations are for swordfight, spearfight, archery, knifework, hand-to-hand combat, survival skills, etiquette and knowledge, which also includes ethics and tactics in it. Knifework is an hour, as is spearfight. Hand-to-hand combat is an hour and a half, as is swordfight. Survival skills is two hours, while knowledge testing is three. And finally, etiquette is four hours."

_14 hours in all? They must be insane!_ thought Legolas inwardly.

"Good luck," Daedhel smirked wider and walked away, leaving them stupefied.

**O-O-O**

"Hello Legolas!"

Legolas smiled in recognition and turned to see two familiar-looking elves heading towards him at top speed, each bearing a cheerful grin. One certain spiky red-haired one and a tall, reedy brown-haired one with cunning blue eyes. However, despite his gladness to see someone familiar, he kept his tone neutral and casual, not too desperate. "Than, Meren. It is good to see you."

"It is indeed! We tried to find you so the three of us could be bunked together," grinned Thangurion back, raking his messy brown hair back apologetically. Then he sighed, his face turning grim. "We didn't find you anywhere, though. So we were unwillingly forced to bunk with one of Turen's cronies instead. A total fool, I tell you, and a bore."

The prince cringed, half-genuinely, half-mockingly. "That must be terrible."

"Bloody Mandos, yes! And what's worse, he_ snores_," gagged Meren as the three of them walked away from the training fields towards their first examination like the other chattering novices. Yet his voice always remained positive. "At least we didn't receive the king. I would've begged to go to the Halls if it came to that. By the way, it was pretty great what you did on him. Ha, I'd like to see Turen snort with a crooked nose!"

"I-It was nothing. I only did it because of self-defense," replied Legolas awkwardly. "And by the way, I am sorry for dragging you into stable-cleaning duty as well. It really was my own fault. You two shouldn't have-"

"Nah, it's all right! Besides, I think one of the stable hands there_ totally _has an infactuation on me," grinned Meren flirtatiously, making Than snort and Legolas frown. "And 'self-defense?' Are you kidding? It was pure bravery! You're a hero now!"

"A...hero?" asked Legolas quizzically. Yet he felt a sudden, budding sensation in his heart. A warm feeling. Not humiliation. Not anger. Not frustration. It was something else, something Legolas couldn't quite picture. Something surprisingly nice.

Thangurion sighed, rolling his eyes as he whacked Meren in the head playfully and smiled gently at Legolas. "What Meren means is that you've become quite well-known. Turen has been tormenting us all for decades and no one has done anything about it. No one has dared. No one other than you, and everyone thinks it's pretty 'admirable,' willing to get into trouble to stand up against that big bully. They're even giving you a nickname: the Defiler."

"The Defiler? That's horrible." It was Legolas' turn to gag.

**[AN: It reminds me a lot of Azog, but I just thought 'defiler' sounded nice]**

"Not at all. Nicknames here are really important," said Meren in his matter-of-fact voice. "My brothers, the twins, they told me that nicknames are pretty much the basis of your reputation in the novice camp. They define you and your character. Everyone eventually gets a nickname, and that pretty much defines if they are likeable or not. It's their personality. For you to get one so early up in the training, and one like the Defiler...it's a sign of respect, Legolas. A sign of acknowledgement."

"Well Meren, that's about the deepest thing I've heard from you," exclaimed Than, laughing.

"Hey! I can say deep things when I want to!" squeaked the red-haired elf. "How deep? _So _deep! Deeper than the sea itself! Deeper than a bloody cliff! Deeper than-!"

"Totally, Meren," smirked Than, rolling his eyes.

The cousins continued bickering, but Legolas was in another world. His breath had stilled and his eyes had almost frozen in time. Respect. He was respected. He wasn't the spoiled prince, second to his brother, second to the kingdom and the palace staff. He wasn't treated as a spare, as a poor copy of his father compared to his older brother. He wasn't childish, or too young, or too weak, or too unknowledgeable, or too incapable of things. Here he was respected. He was acknowledged. He...he had an identity. He didn't need to hide beneath his brother or his father or his family's shadow. He could forge and create his very own identity. He could create his own image of himself, unblemished from the prejudices of coming from a noble house. He could be himself, and be the elf he had always wanted to be.

And it was glorious.

**O-O-O**

Legolas twiddled his thumbs nervously as he watched the professor, a reedy elf whose name he'd forgotten already because of his nerves, pass out the exam papers. He was starting his knowledge testing. The papers were divided into various sections depending on their subjects and were designed for various levels and aptitudes. No one was expected to finish the massive pile, of course, but every question you answered was to be evaluated, as well as the number of questions accomplished.

The prince gave a deep sigh, squirming in his seat. He wasn't a particularly good student, so he didn't have very high hopes for this examination, but he hoped he could at least come up to average.

The professor was coming closer to him and Legolas felt some beads of sweat roll from behind his neck. He wanted to wipe them off, but it was as if his hands were glued to the desk. He was completely nervous and his legs had also turned to mush, shaking uncontrollably. Fortunately, everyone else was too anxious to notice, so he had spared himself from humiliation. Legolas shook his head, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.

He couldn't be so negative! Maybe he had hope! Just maybe. Maybe this test wouldn't be so difficult after all...

And of course, when all the tests had been distributed and the professor had indicated for them to flip the papers and start, Legolas put his eyes in the first question and found himself to be wrong.

**Sketch and describe the migratory pattern of the Dunedáin over the past ages. Afterwards, explain what influenced these patterns and the effect of these upon the population.**

Legolas' tutor had taught him about the Dunedáin and their history. The young elf had initially been fascinated by the magical race descending from King Elros, but as he did with studying, he'd gotten bored. He simply could not stay focused, and staying inside reading about events that had happened centuries before he was even conceived wasn't his idea of entertainment. Nevertheless, he regretted it deeply now. The question, he knew, was easy, but Legolas' mind was a blank slate. It...didn't matter. He could just go back to that question later. However, the entire page was full of similar questions so he decided to flip some pages to see if it would be much better.

It wasn't.

**Name all Feanorians, make a brief description of each, and then proceed to make a detailed summary of each of their demises/unfortunate fates.**

This was even easier, but his mind strangely remained blank. And so it went on...

**Compare the differences and similarities between the** _**Nirnaeth Arnoediad **_**and **_**Dagorlad. **_**Why were these two battles vital for the Firstborn and what were the casualties, both in general and especially? Which important figures were lost?**

**The Twelve Noble Houses of Gondolindrim all played critical parts in the Fall of Gondolin. State each house's name, symbol(s) and leader.**

Unfortunately, it didn't bring him anything. His mind remained blank, his memory empty despite all of the books he had been forced to read on the history of Gondolin and of Middle-Earth's first few ages. Were there any questions more difficult than the ones in this history section? However, he found himself to be wrong...when he got to the medical part.

**This _ root, along with _ amount of poor Western spices will serve as a proper supplement/substitute for a certain herb. State the answers and then using these, create a detailed step-to-step guide on how to create this healing replacement. **

**You and a companion are scouts. While scouting forward, something goes wrong and your companion is severely injured. Both of you manage to escape, but he has been shot by an arrow and it is buried in his lower torso, near various vital organs. You are in unfamiliar territory, not close to any medical supplies or support, and can only rely on your instincts and nature. You know that by taking the arrow out, you might risk making your companion bleed to death, as well as reveal your positions with the scent of his blood. However, you know that by letting the arrow stay in, the damage could worsen and it could also be fatal. What would be most prudent? **

**Give a thorough description of the process and purposes of anmniocentesis. **

_Not becoming a healer any time soon, _muttered Legolas in his head. If only his friends, the Elrondion twins, were here. As goofy and lightheaded as they might have initially seemed, Legolas truly respected them when it came to the medical area, or any of the various areas the Elrondion twins held with expertise. Both of them proved to be as diligent, talented and serious as their father about healing, and were very knowledgeable in the area. They even had potential to become even better than their father one day! Surely they could have helped Legolas score full points in the medical part.

He sighed. Alas, they weren't here.

He flipped to the engineering. Surely crafts wouldn't be too hard?

**Describe the handcraft of Teleri boats.**

**Give a detailed explanation of the forging of the dark blade, Anglachel, and how its creation affected history. **

And it wasn't, but his mind remained blank.

He groaned, realizing these weren't the only sections to the seemingly endless test. He buried his head into his lap. This was going to be terrible.

**O-O-O**

The rest of his examinations went all right...or that was what he thought.

Etiquette came easily. Legolas aced through it with no difficulty, seeing that his father had been particularly strict on Legolas' composure. Even as a spare heir, he needed to have an appearance worthy of court, and Thranduil had always instilled good manners and values in the young elf.

Knifework also came, but much to Legolas' surprise, it wasn't that difficult. Legolas' positions might have been off most of the times, but he had impeccable aim, be it archery or any other weapons. So he was mostly able to hit the targets and battle with it. Blunt knives weren't so different than toy wooden swords, it seemed. This also applied to spearfight and swordfight, although...swordfighting did not go well.

It involved Daethel, Turen and many other things Legolas preferred to speak of later.

Survival was not very difficult either, although Legolas did not do as well as he had expected himself to do. He had finished his work, but not smoothly. Others, however, had done tasks in half the time Legolas had taken to do his, and much smoothly. Caranith, that annoying elleth who had almost chopped Legolas, was one of these people. Her fingers, although rough and blemished, moved gracefully, be it to make a cast using tree bark, lighting a fire, creating a bucket out of almost nothing and much more. She was truly skilled. This made him feel both frustrated and embarrassed. Was Legolas really a 'sheltered and spoiled' little prince?

He shook his head off it. Nevermind that.

**O-O-O**

"Hmm...promising, is he?"

"Yes, sir. That is what I am saying. He is a bit unsure of himself still, but I have good faith in him. He will grow to be a confident, good-hearted leader; a hero that will make us all proud one day. His abilities are already starting to grow as well, and he is beginning to become more extroverted. Also, he might be a mischievous, as I reported to you earlier, sir, but I see it as a rebellious spark. That will serve him well, although I fear his recklessness might lead him to his death. Nobody's luck lasts forever anyways, they say, especially when you choose to dedicate yourself to battle."

"Naturally. But discipline will straighten his ways. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will. My words are absolute."

"I believe so too, sir. But I do not think he is one to yield easily."

"Then we will make him yield. There are some things you defy, but somethings you need to follow. If you have no discipline, no order, no strict will, then you are nothing. No matter how good of a warrior you are, you will wither and die as soon as you go to combat. This elfling is not going to become a commander in one day, anyways. He has yet a lot to learn."

"Yes, I agree, sir. Although you must admit, sir, tthat the King has raised another good one."

"As expected of him. However, I do believe this one is different from his predecessors."

"How so, sir?"

"You will see in time."

**O-O-O**

Legolas stood, feeling the most confident he'd ever been since his arrival.

The arrow notched on his bow weren't weapons. They were extensions of himself, extensions of his limbs and of his body. They weren't cold and foreign, they were warm and familiar. They were his friends. His years of practice washed over him, and a sense of comfort came to him as he watched others struggle on what Legolas now thought was nothing trivial. And then he realized, this was home. Not the palace, not the trees, not Middle-Earth: his skill. His skill was his greatest comfort, and wherever he went, his skill would remind him of home. Remind him of the journey that had taken him here, the journey that he would follow to become even better at his art, his archery.

"Begin!" shouted Peleas as simultaneously, five young novices shot their arrows.

Basically, Peleas, the archery instructor, called five novices at a time to make some basic archery drills. It was nothing hard, but apparently many broke under the pressure. Archery was very tedious and expected much from you, after all. Like patience and timing. Many of the others' arrows flew out crooked, swirling uncontrollably. Some didn't even fly. Some bows clattered to the ground weakly. Some arrows did succeed in their path, but not where they intended to be. One of these was Caranith's, whose frustrated grunt made Legolas secretly feel pleased with himself.

But Legolas didn't care. This was all timed. Peleas was only giving them thirty seconds to accomplish ten shots. It was all under a specific time, and Legolas couldn't afford wasting it. Of course, nobody was expecting you to perform all of them...but Legolas had to. He just did. Because he knew he _could_. He knew he had that capacity. He could do it and he would do it. His arms started burning as he lets his arrows fly beautifully, but he tried to remind himself that this wasn't anything compared to his usual practice routine.

Then, faster than anything Legolas had wished for, Peleas' horn blew and the archers stopped.

He was out of breath. Legolas had to step back a while and tried to regain some oxygen, leaning against a tree trunk briefly for support. He didn't even bother to see if his arrows had even see the target. Despite the short duration of the exercise, Legolas was completely exhausted. Finally, after a few gulps, he looked up and was surprised by what he saw.

Everyone was gaping at him. Everyone, not only the watching novices but the ones shooting alongside him, looked awestruck, jaws hung open and eyes widened to the limit. Caranith's flabbergasted face was possibly the most memorable of them all. Even Peleas looked at him with approval, writing in his notepad while nodding repeatedly as he did so. Legolas frowned by all the shocked reactions. Why were they so shocked at him? Had anything happened that he wasn't aware of? Was there anything behind the prince? _What_?

Then he finally realized what it was, as he looked up at his target.

And there there were: ten perfectly split arrows, all coming from the bull's eyes.

Legolas cracked into his awkward wobbly smile, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He was used to attention, but not because of his abilities. It felt both gratifying but strange too, and he wasn't exactly sure how to react.

"I had heard rumours that the youngest prince did archery for a hobby," said Peleas mildly, appearing from behind the young blond-haired prince, walking in front to face him. He then suddenly flashed Legolas a mysterious smile, something Legolas wasn't sure was an entirely good sign. Then he pointed to the ten perfectly split arrows. "I'm afraid they might have underestimated his skill they spoke of, though."

"T-Thank you, sir, b-but I don't think so. It _is_ just a hobby of mine," said Legolas awkwardly, scratching the back of his hair. He liked getting these indirect compliments, but was not used to receiving them, therefore making it umcomfortable. "Nothing major."

"A hobby?" smirked Peleas. "So other elflings might play tag and collect leaves and stones, but instead you collect arrows so to use them later in archery practice?"

"That's right, sir. In a way."

"Do you practice everyday?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long each day?"

"Erm, maybe an hour..."

"_Sir_," corrected Peleas, reminding Legolas of the title he needed to use to address the other masters and camp superiors.

"There's no need to call me sir, Master Peleas," replied Legolas, feeling some sass starting to boil in his blood, possibly due to this 'hormone' thing his brother had tried to explain to him. Some people giggled behind him but Master Peleas was definitely not amused, as his face turned slightly scarlet and some lines on his face deepened in annoyance.

**[This is actually based on one of the conversations Harry has with Snape in The **_**Harry Potter **_**series. Even though Daedhel is based on Snape, and not Peleas, I just thought I should put it here, since this story is largely based on the HP series]**

"Thranduilion, you're making it really difficult to compliment you."

"Sorry, sir."

"Anyways," continued Peleas, although his smile had faded much to Legolas' disappointment. "You should not underestimate your skill, Thranduilion. It is obviously a gift. Not one novice has been able to shoot all ten arrows under my time, and much less with such accuracy. And for someone so young to gain such skill with only an hour of practice a day...it is incredible. Congratulations." Then he turned to look at the other four. "Of course, the rest of you have done well too. The novices have been getting better with every generation. I am proud. You are dismissed for now. You may rest for a while until we do the next pair of archery exercises."

_But they're becoming less too, _thought Legolas to himself about the novices.

And it was true. More novices were being sent off prematurely because of the lack of soldiers in patrols. Soldiers were dying, and some of Mirkwood had become as desperate as to recruit these kinds of inexperienced novices off into battle, some novices as young as Legolas was! Novices who didn't even have the strength to pull back a bowstring. Legolas felt his fist roll up in anger and frustration at the darkness. How long would it be until elves would stop dying to fight against the darkness? When would everyone stop suffering? Legolas remember Thalos telling him that his novice camp had been made up of hundreds and hundreds of fellow novices, standing eagerly alongside Thalos. Now, in Legolas' time, there were not even a hundred, and most look more scared than excited.

What had become of his home?

As the others started whispering to each other animatedly, some even flashing admiring looks at Legolas, the blond elf prince finally allowed himself to slump forward and relax. He hadn't realized how tensed he'd been, but now he was relieved it all over. He started walking off the fields in order to get a drink of water and maybe do some small exercises in order to shake the nervousness away from him-

"Not you, Thranduilion."

Legolas paused and suddenly whirled around, frowning at the archery master. Others did the same, their whispering louder now, and the blond archer looked extremely confused as the archery master sternly looked at the prince. "Why not, sir?"

"There are some things I want to test you with," stated the archery master neutrally.

"Oh...all right sir," stated Legolas awkwardly, not knowing what to expect. He gave a little shrug at the end in order to emphasize his confusion. Others also looked confused, but not as much as the prince. Instead, they actually sat down and settled up, as if they were going to stay and watch! Legolas was horrified. He hated practicing with crowds.

Immediately, Peleas shoved a bow into his hands, and a quiver full of arrows, which almost seemed to come out of nowhere. Perhaps masters had that ability. "Have you used moving targets?"

"Erm...relatively."

"Relatively?" snapped Peleas, his voice sharper now, more demanding.

"Well, I've barely done practice on that. I've gone on some nearby patrols before too, sir. Just to watch and learn a bit. But...sometimes my shooting was needed, and honestly, I don't think orcs are going to give you time to aim," stated Legolas, as the whispers quieted down behind him as they heard the words 'patrol,' and 'orcs.'

"Hm, good enough then," stated Peleas. Then, out of nowhere as well, he cranked a lever and some gears roared to life. Wood creaked and in front of him, Legolas could see the targets start to move and spin around. Behind him, Legolas could feel shocked murmurs, even a "Whoa, those things_ moved_?" from a surprised youthful voice. Peleas looked at the young archer. "Now, shoot ten arrows. Try to hit them all."

Legolas did his ten shots, pouring out the very best of him and as he looked at his target after he finished, he winced. Seven out of ten. And out of those ten that had hit the target, only three had hit the bull's eyes, or any other critical points. The other four were just wildly spread on the target, pinpointing random points. Some were even on the very border!

He turned to look at the archery master, expecting to be ridiculed and insulted, but Peleas gave no comment, only scribbling dutifully in that small notepad all masters were awarded. Finally, he looked up, and gestured using his quill, a spot where Legolas had to move. "Again, different angle. Move over there."

Frowning, Legolas did what he was told and repeated the process.

This time, he was surprised to have improved. Only one of his arrows went too high, flying over bounds because of a bad hand posture Legolas possessed. However, the rest were firm and sturdy, all giving satisfying _thwacks _against the wooden targets. Five of these hit the bull's eye, three were lopsided and this time, only one hit the very border.

He looked up at Peleas, waiting for some sort of comment, perhaps a compliment, but like the first time got nothing. The archery instructor only wrote and instructed Legolas. This time, he changed Legolas' angle once more. Legolas didn't improve, which was a disappointment, but he wasn't stopped either. Peleas only continued dictating.

It got harder as the 'testing' went on. Legolas had to shoot at farther distances, had to often position himself in weird positions, had difficult angles, was given different types of targets and even if it had only been ten or so continuous minutes of drills, Legolas was exhausted. He always gave himself some rest time between drills, but his body was now screaming. His muscles ached, his neck and joints throbbed and he hadn't even been given time to wipe off his sweat. But it didn't look like he was finished yet.

"Two more until we all go back to the real examinations," stated Peleas. He grabbed an apple from his pocket, positioned it on his head and looked at Legolas, who was several feet away from the instructor. "First, shoot this apple off my head."

"_What_?" asked Legolas incredulous, his bow suddenly feeling heavier. "I can't do that!"

"You can't, or you don't want to?"

"N-No sir, it's not that! I'm not disobeying your orders. It's just that I...I could shoot _you_."

Much to his surprise, Peleas laughed. "Me? That's probable. I could lose an eye, even! So it's up to you, Thranduilion. Either you take care of your shooting and do as I told you, or you get another punishment added to your already growing pile. It's your choice."

"That's not f-!" Legolas was about to argue and then he sighed reluctantly, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. It was obvious that even here in the novice camp, there was no justice or fairness. It was all about survival. Then he

He shot the apple off. Barely, and along with Legolas' arrow, skittered messily unto the muddy floor. Legolas sighed in relief. He hadn't killed or mutilated his archery master. That was progress. Suddenly, his face tightened in pain. A muscle in his shoulder had suddenly started burning and he fell to the ground, shocked by how tremendously his shoulder sizzled. Nevertheless, all the other novices were frozen in place while Peleas only looked down coldly, watching as Legolas grabbed his sore shoulder.

"Get up," he snapped. "We are not done yet, Thranduilion."

Legolas looked up at him incredulously and was about to snap back in indignance. Was the elf blind or did he not see him _squirming in the ground with pain while holding his sore shoulder_? However, it seemed it wasn't necessary. A voice stopped Peleas from further speech and in a casual, fruity yet firm tone, stated:

"-Stop it, Peleas. Honestly, you didn't even push_ me _that hard when you were considering me for the course. This is why there are never any candidates: you scare them away with your angry face."

Legolas looked up and managed to get an image.

The owner of the voice was surprisingly young, perhaps more or less a century older than Legolas. He had rugged long red hair braided carefully down until his hip and sharp green eyes, that twinkled with amusement...but also hidden wisdom, wisdom Legolas was eager to decipher. He was also very fit, as shown by a very well-practiced muscles he had beneath his clothes and the lean posture he had. And he was obviously of Silvan heritage, for his looks, his mind and his personality clearly reflected his identity. He soon also became the subject of admiration for many of the female novices - although Caranith had only snorted and shaken her head when she'd seen this fact - but he paid them no heed as he turned and flashed a charming grin at Peleas.

Peleas wasn't happy, but he was clearly amused. He sighed, grumbled, and turned to look at the young red-haired elf with a half-affectionate, half-disapproving face. Then, he burst into a small smirk, greeting the young elf with an outstretched arm and having that same greeting returned to him by the cheerful red-haired.

"My face, for your information young Firen, is not angry."

"Yes, and I am not handsome," smirked the Firen elf back, rolling his eyes. Then he turned to Legolas, who had still been lying on the floor and was looking up at him with amazement. Then, to his further amazement, the red-haired crouched down slightly and offered his hand to the prince. Legolas doubted him slightly, especially because of what had happened with Morinlai that morning, but he had a feeling...just a feeling, that Firen was safe to trust.

"Hey there greenie!" he smiled, hand still outstretched. "My name is Firen. You're young, but I was younger when I started. Say, would you mind joining my advanced archery class? We are in need of more prodigies like you. And I'm very greedy, I tell you. I won't accept 'no' for an answer. What d'ya say?"

For a second, Legolas looked up at the elf with a look of pure confusion, but it didn't take him long to get an answer. Using his other hand, he firmly grasped Firen's and allowed himself to be helped up, solidly hopping to his feet and standing up as he faced the advanced archery instructor with a timid beam. And shyly, from the very inside of his heart, with everything Legolas could genuinely muster, he said:

"If you won't accept no for an answer, sir, then I think I will be honored to say yes."

"Fantastic! From now on call me Firen, greenie. Sir? Honestly, that makes me sound as old and dull as Peleas. And we all know the obvious genetic differences we both possess."

"Yes, yes, young Firen. Because we are all truly envious for not having been graced with your incredible humour and rugged good looks. You are _absolutely _hilarious."

**O-O-O**

**AN: I finally update! I am so sorry. My life really got ahold of me, as well as some other personal emotional issues. But I'm feeling much better now! We're finally in school vacation and this will probably give me much more time. But do forgive me for taking such a long time to update. I really am trying to cut my updating time down.**

**But anyways, yay, a happier chapter! Don't you think Legolas deserved that, after all I put him to in the last few chapters? (Unless you'd like some more suffering and humilliation...)**

**So, here are the reviews (AND I REALIZED I DIDN'T RESPOND TO THE REVIEWS LAST CHAPTER...AND I AM SO SORRY! Please forgive me again everyone!) **

**MaskedMan2: **Thank you! :D I always look forward to receiving your feedback. It is so helpful and flattering (so much, that I hardly believe I deserve it)! Anyways, I have not read the Brotherband Chronicles, but I am sure to check it out and give it a look! Truth is, this whole novice camp idea came from many of the animes I watch, but it's also based strongly on Harry Potter and other fandom influences, so I do believe the Brotherband Chronicles will be a great help. And although this chapter didn't have much of Daedhel, I do like his interaction with Legolas. Haha, I secretly like all interactions Legolas has. He's at such a young stage of life and he has so many conflicted feelings, which makes his growth seem all the more interesting! But once more, thank you. I do enjoy making my characters anyways (what do you think of Firen?), but it's the reviewers, the readers and others who support me that fuel my writing.

**WoodElfJedi: **Thanks! And it turns out not everyone is out to get him. Haha, although *teeny spoiler alert* that's not the last piece of suffering he's going to get. But for now, Legolas is actually fitting in! And trust me, Firen will help him a lot on that. :) Oh, and I will try to update the best I can!

**Horsegirl01:** Haha, but at the very least this chapter was a happy one for Legolas! Or as happy as one can get. And I promise you, Legolas will get some friends...and very good ones too! And he will get to know Viruvil better in the future. And thanks for always keeping up with my work! :)

**Bettsam0731: **Thanks! I love Viruvil too. And the group will get stronger. After all, once the real training starts, so does gaining points and everything. The competition will probably increase and they will need to become more united in the future, despite their differences. And although I think I did pretty badly describing the examinations, I'm happy that you're looking forward to my updates! :) I always appreciate you guys' support!

**Wenduo: **First of all, thanks for reviewing and supporting so much! You obviously went in-depth with each chapter and I really, really appreciate it! :D I'm glad you're liking the story so far and I hope that you keep on being awesome and reading!

**Schattenjagd: **Haha, you're totally right! I think I did go a little bit too far, but I was planning to delay his admission to the advanced archery course a teeny bit so that you could get an idea how harsh the camp could be. And even though Legolas is talented, he's still really young. He is still not to his full potential and some of his mistakes might _indeed_ make him look like a clown. And I finally updated! It's such a relief. I thought I could never do it, but I did! Thanks for pulling in and always offering me support, even when my writing gears were broken. I'm really grateful to be able to hear and receive so many kind words from you! I will try to update as much as I can...and I always look forward to your work too!


	7. The Life Back Home

**Chapter 6.5, The Life Back Home**

"Commander Rían is dead."

The Southern Settlement was a place Thalos knew well. He had founded it after all, since he'd proposed and helped fund the project. Because of the extensive fighting done in the southern and most dangerous part of Mirkwood, Thalos had thought of building a base there so that troops could be more comfortable fighting. The construction had taken various men and countless months to build, but it had served its purpose well. The barricaded compound had currently 300 deployed soldiers and offered them living facilities, to make it as warm and familiar to their actual homes as possible. However, the danger remained there. Darkness lurked strongly here, and just the mere presence had driven hundreds of elves mad before. Various had died of the pressure, oppression and dark spirit their posts provided, much before the real fighting had started. And that, itself, was an entirely other issue.

But Thalos was much stronger than that.

He, two other commanders and two generals sat cross-legged in a well-furnished tent. Thalos knew these meetings were necessary, since he needed others' wisdom, seeing as he was Mirkwood's youngest commander up-to-date, but sometimes he despised them. It...it just was too somber for his taste. Like dark, dark wine, bitter and cold, lacking honey or sugar. The atmosphere was always negative, always down. And these meetings were all those cold feelings crushed together. And he hated the aura of these meetings too. There was too much aromatic incense, too many bottles of wine and alcohol and sometimes, too much tension. Although war did that to people, it seemed.

Thalos preferred drinking light herbal tea during these meetings, despite his eternal love for Dorwinion. The tea cleared his head a bit and relieved some of his tension. He sat next to Commander Círran, a gold-haired commander with a cheerful complexion and beyond excellent short-range fighting skills. He could make everything happier and had a sense of charisma he had always wanted to have. He'd taken Thalos under his wing when he'd first became a commander and Thalos had always liked him and his amiable character. Every challenge he faced was treated with mirth, making it easier to accomplish, and it was as if slaughtering the filths from Mirkwood was just another game of cards for him...except, Commander Círran knew it wasn't just a game. It was life or death. And when it came to that, he was as dead serious as anyone else here.

Next to Commander Círran was Commander Maegorodon, apparently a good friend of Commander Círran. It was a surprise, considering they were exact opposites. Thalos respected him, but preferred not to be associated with him. He was a fearsome commander, and had gotten his post through brutal skill, force, wit and intelligence. He was cold, almost heartless, dubbed the 'Icy Steel' during the battle, for his emotionless and ruthless fighting. He also had a sharp mind, pristine composure and despite his initial stony-hearted character, was actually incredibly loyal to his post and his cause. He was dead serious about it and it was no surprise why he'd risen so high. He definitely deserved his post. Thalos admired his dedication...but this elf was much more dangerous than he seemed.

He shook his head. Analyzing could be done later.

"That is unfortunate," Thalos replied to one of the generals who had stated that, sipping some more tea and then looking around the circle considerably. Then, he gently put his cup down and settled down into business. "The issue now is who we are to replace him with-"

"That is cruel, my lord. Are we at least not going to mourn him?" interrupted one of the generals, looking around with confused jade eyes. "Was his live really a simple nuissance, that we will not speak of it so soon after his passing?"

"General Faegon, as much as I do not want to admit it, the boy is right," snapped Commander Maegorodon, his voice immediately putting them all to silence. He was intimidating that way. Thalos secretly huffed in indignance. He was young, especially compared to all these thoroughly seasoned warriors (who all had the age to be his father), but he wasn't exactly a babe either. He hated being underestimated by others just because of his youth or class. He had skill and a personality took, if people hadn't noticed yet. "We don't have time for that right now. There are more pressing matters."

Commander Círran gulped down some mead, wiped off some of it with his sleeve and then looked at them, pointing at each of them with his bottle as he spoke with his trademark dimpled grin. "What he means to say, is that we might have to put that aside temporarily. We will surely honor Rían's noble sacrifice, but first we need to handle our major problems, so we can ensure Rían's passing with proper peace. We will definitely add him to the funeral pyre that is to be lit in a few days and offer some of our prayers."

This made the two generals present feel a bit better. Apparently, they had been close to Commander Rían. Thalos had liked him too, but he knew he shouldn't get too attached to the people here. When a warrior got too attached to people, it never brought you good news...and this was proved to them everyday.

"Yes, so we need to find a replacement for him, and quickly," stated Thalos, getting back to the real point. He hated hassle and he was eager for another reason to renew his strength and go back into battle. "He was leading the recovery operation and had already unlocked three of our past captured territories. We cannot afford to lose them, much less be weakened by his death. Someone has to lead the operation once more and continue his legacy."

"The problem, my lord, is that everyone is busy already. And those who aren't, won't live to stand a day," said the general next to General Faegon. "They're exhausted, they're starving, they're thirsty - they're half-dead already, to say. They can't stand on their own feet to fight any longer. We need them to recover, lest we send them to their deaths. And then, the others have already been deployed in other operations, yet to return to us."

"When does the next patrol return, then?"

"Not until next week, my lord."

Thalos let out some colorful words under his breath and sighed, sipping some more of his tea. Normally, this would sooth some of his worries, but it didn't seem to be working. While he drunk, the others chattered. Commander Maegorodron was observing them critically while Commander Rían tried persuading the two generals to split some of the current patrols to get more spare elves to create another patrol to defend Rían's regained territories.

"I...I believe this is bold of me," stated Thalos, looking up at them slowly. "But could I lead the party?"

"You are already in charge of an area, Thalos," said Commander Círran looking at him carefully, with a gentle voice. "Are you sure you can accomplish this operation?"

"I understand it will be difficult, but I am willing to double my burden. My lieutenant can handle my current area, since all we need to do is defend. However, I will try and persuade some of my men to go out and try to help me with Rían's offense," said Thalos. "Please, my lords. If you would but give me a few hours, I can scout fifteen elves."

"You are thinking too defensively, boy," snapped Commander Maegorodron. "What we need is offense. With just fifteen elves, you will die. And you say you can scout them in mere hours...how? Everyone is secretly praying to not be thrown into the battlefield out there. And the most some of these soldiers have rested is two days. How will you recruit them, then? Will you just hold a flag and shout for them to volunteer, as if you were selling vegetables in a market?"

Thalos secretly balled his fists together in frustration. Was Maegorodron against him, or what? Was it some sort of secret, yet not-so secret hatred? Why did he oppose him so? Thalos knew he hadn't done any wrong to the older, dark-haired commander.

"No sir. But I will persuade them. That I promise."

**O-O-O**

"My lord, _go home_!"

"NO!"

"Please my lord, you are unwell-"

"I AM NOT! I am fine, you are exaggerating-"

"No we're not, my lord. The white of your eyes is turning red. Fatigue is deeply etched on your features. Your skin is pale and cold with a slight fever. You are dizzy when you walk. That is not 'fine.' In fact, it's not the least normal at all! You need rest, my lord. You cannot go on fighting-"

"I can and I will!"

Outside the boisterous healing tent, which had five healers, two generals and a certain young commander, two battle-clad figures sat on wooden wine barrels, which would be used in tonight's dinner as a reward for all the soldiers' hard work. Commander Círran was gleefully craddling a glass of wine on his lap and Commander Maegorodron was drinking quickly from his own cup. He did not look as eager as Círran, but he clearly enjoyed the rare treat of alcohol. However, only Círran, who had been his friend since novice training, could tell his emotions.

"Stubborn little fool - what is he thinking? Thrashing and arguing madly all around," snorted Commander Maegorodron, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He's only causing more trouble for the healers. Besides, if he's injured, he's injured. He asked for it anyways, laying siege at three major orc camps and burning two spider nests in four consecutive days. He's young, but even the youth aren't tireless." He drank a bit more from his cup.

"Well, he succeeded. Give him that at least, my friend!" smirked Círran. "C'mon, don't be so cold. And besides, when they brought him over, he didn't even wince! He looked half-dead on his feet, his face gaunt and devoid of warmth, limping on a swollen ankle, the skin on his hsoulder raw and burning, with bloody bandages surrounding his torso."

"We'll give him that," sighed Maegorodron. "He _is_ brighter than some of the other commanders that serve along us. And he has surprising endurance, as expected of a hearty lad of good health. He deserves his title already, but he is still reckless. Not every siege he leads is going to be successful. And this victory didn't come free either. The amount of elves in the healing wing has doubled."

"Everyone is injured during patrols, so do not tell me you are surprised by this. You have to admire his devotion as well. Thalos was quite eager to lead this, even though he already knew the troubles were lying out there," shrugged Commander Círran cheerfully, grinning at his friend. Then after a swig from his cup, he began poking Commander Maegorodron on the shoulder. "Oh c'mon, don't tell me you are not reminded of a certain youth who did the same things before, way before he even thought of settling down and creating a family."

"Stop poking me."

"Sorry," grinned Círran apologetically as he watch his friend's face darken. However, Círran's smile only widened. "But still, don't tell me you don't remember. We were novices together too, you know." Then he groaned, rubbing the side of his head. "You know, I still remember how you always woke me up an hour before the rooster, just because you wanted a sparring partner. I always fell asleep during classes because of you!"

"I was young and foolish. I was and am not eager, I am only devoted," humphed Maegorodron, crossing his arms against his chest. "Success can only come with hard work, so I am willing to make any sacrifice for it. My cause is the highest."

"Well, you made that pretty clear already. You did miss Morin's birth and part of his childhood just because you were off in that year-long campaign of yours to colonize a previous orc-infested plot of land," stated Círran, looking up at his friend accusingly, crossing his arms as well. "That must have been huge."

"It was a sacrifice that needed to be made. Besides, Morinlai will need to learn to serve and fight just as much as I have. As a future commander he will need to put his very being into his job. He will be fully devoted to the Elvenking and the Greenwood. He will not falter, and if he does not sail, I expect him to die in the battlefield. Morinlai will also makes sacrifices, but those sacrifices will be for the very cause of good. He must be selfless, because selfishness amongst the military makes corruption. And I will not tolerate corruption to dirty my line," growled Commander Maegorodron. "And when he grows to have my position or if possible, anything higher, he must depend on his hard work and determination. He is by far not as gifted as your son anyways, so he cannot depend on talent or mere instinct."

"My son is no more exceptional than yours, Maegorodron," stated Círran incredulously, his face suddenly turning stern and dark, frowning at his friend with disapproval. "I could not be prouder of mine, but how can you say my Kaitsu is much better than him? Your son is one of the most talented individuals I have known! His potential already surpasses many of my own seasoned men. Besides, if I wasn't correct, your son has nearly beat mine in all school subjects and they are equals when it comes to fighting. I see no flaw in how he is turning up."

"He is nearly perfect, but not always. And that will cost him his death in battle. Morinlai will need to do much more than be the first of his class to please me."

Círran was about to snap something back in defense of young Morinlai's defense, but they were both interrupted as another drunken cry was uttered from inside the healing tent. There was some noise too, including the _clang_ of some pots and other utensils. There were some more screams, some shrieks, some shattered cries and then signs of an obvious, half-conscious struggle. And suddenly, a voice shouted:

"NO, I'm not leaving! I'm perfectly fine..._please_, let me FIGHT!"

"Valar almighty, he is still going at it?" grumbled Maegorodron in annoyance, gently putting his cup on the barrel where he was sitting and standing up, flexing his arms. He turned himself into the direction of the tent before he was interrupted by a question uttered by his friend.

"Are you knocking him out by force?" smirked Círran with amusement, temporarily forgetting their previous argument.

"Stubborn fools take stubborn measures," sighed Maegorodon with exasperation.

Then he went into the tent.

**O-O-O**

**AN: **Haha, I'm making you wait for the examination results until next chapter! For now, I decided to take a little rest from Legolas' novice life to see how things are doing out of the training camp. And it's also a teeny reward for making you all wait so much for my work. I am deeply sorry.

(By the way, this chapter starts just after Thalos greets Legolas off and ends around the beginning of Chapter 6.)


End file.
